PS 2905 



1902 



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UP FROM GEORGIA 



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By FRANK L. STANTON 

Author of 
"Songs of the Soil," etc. 



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I^eto iorft 

D. APPLETON ^ COMPANY 
1902 






THF LI8RARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
T»vo Copite RecsivED 

OCT. 4 ^m2' 

OnpvmaHT entry 



XXc. No 
OOP'*' 3. 



fw... .^ 



Copyright, 1902 
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 



'^uhliSheU' Odfoher, 190^* 



To 

JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS 

These echoes from the Georgian hills 

And violet-vales of May 
That love your name, and in your fame 

Shine o'er the world to-day. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The singers . . i 

Wedded . . 2 

Down on the old plantation ...... 4 

The world-way of the South ...... 6 

Christmas times in Georgia 8 

In an old inn lo 

A song of her lover 12 

An old man's musing '14 

A morning song 16 

A little cot 18 

The way Old Glory goes ....... 20 

When the old man got religion 21 

Here's hopin' .24 

Two pictures . 26 

When the fall time comes 27 

The merry round 28 

In wind and rain .29 

Return, sweet day 32 

Life's wayside inn S^ 

Evening song S"* 

Along life's way . 36 

The dream . . . . . . • . . '37 

The volunteer . 39 

** Hold on awhile " . . . . . • • .40 

V 



Contents 



PAGE 

The fall of frost 41 

The story of the bonnet ....... 42 

The prayer for rain ........ 45 

The later rest ....... .^ . 49 

At roll call . . . 51 

The last of the grenadiers . . . . . . -52 

He dances life away ........ 55 

Dear little fellow . . 56 

In the branch ......... 58 

His best .......... 60 

Ten acres and Mary ........ 61 

In Halleluia Town ........ 62 

A song in April ......... 64 

In fields of bloom 65 

The morning ......... 67 

When Jenny came along ....... 68 

In campmeetin' time ........ 69 

The ship's coming home . . . . . . -71 

" Tollable well ! " 72 

A poor, plain colonel . . . . . . . '73 

Before a fine oak fire ........ 74 

An answered prayer ........ 7^ 

Blooms .......... 77 

At the opera ......... 7^ 

Our country's call . .80 

As the boys go marching by . . . . . .81 

The miracle days ........ 83 

A pretty good world • 85 

Singing him to sleep ........ 87 

The blessed rain 89 

vi 



Contents 



PAGE 

Out in the weather ........ 90 

An Indian-summer day 91 

A rockaby song ......... 92 

Goodby, Mister Rain 93 

Hoe your row ......... 94 

His time for singing ........ 95 

The colored dancing match ...... 96 

" Des a li'l' cabin " 100 

A springtime philosopher 102 

Two views of it . . • . . . . . . 104 

The way to the melon patch 105 

Swing dem sisters 106 

For Christmas grace ........ 107 

A field song ......... 108 

A song of to-morrow . . . . . . . .110 

March and April . . .. . . . .111 

His song of money 112 

The way love leads 113 

Dear, toiling hands 114 

The victory of peace . . . . . . . • ii7 

Jean 121 

The ride with Molly . . .122 

The woman's song ". . 124 

Her talking eyes 126 

The little one away 127 

What the toys said 129 

Miss Mary 131 

We'll get on the brighter side 132 

Naming the baby . 133 

How the old man went home 135 

vii 



Contents 



Dat's my li'l' boy 

The absence of Philip 

The rippling of Old Glory 

Just whistle 

What the car wheels sang 

Morning and night 

A song of life 

The call of freedom 

A prayer of gifts 

To the fields 

Alone with the dream 

A ballad 

A song of hope 

On the march 

The oft-told tale 

To a singer 

The passing of a hero 

The voice of the South 

A Georgia courtship . 

The sweetest of memory's bells 

Rain . 

William McKinley 



137 
138 

139 
140 
142 

145 
146 
148 
149 
150 
151 
152 
153 
154 
155 
156 
160 
164 
166 
172 

174 
176 



vm 



THE SINGERS 

Chorus of singers, day by day — 
Thick in the world they throng ; 

But mark ye, masters ! the weary way 
Is sweet for the sake of song ! 

Not song that soars to the heights above — 
That thrills through the vista'd years 5 

But it brings the light to the eyes of love, 
And is sweet with the gift of tears. 

No song that pictures the battle-strife^ 
For there are the singers grand ; 

There are greater deeds in the vales of life 
Than on heights where the heroes stand. 

Chorus of singers ! The world hath need 
Of the humbler strains that fall 

On the wayside lone — on the paths that lead 
To the light that shines for all. 



WEDDED 

Well, you are wedded, and around your life 
Twine two great joys ; for some one calls you wife, 

And child-lips murmur : " Mother ! " and you smile 
After long years of sorrow and heart-strife. 

Smile up into the eyes that meet your own — 
Feel the strong, sheltering arm around you thrown 
And with the loveliest words of love you while 
The hours away, no longer dark and lone. 

You feel the clinging of your child ; you feel 
His arms about your neck ; his kisses steal 
Away the sigh that trembles to your lips 
When faithful Memory doth some face reveal 

From out the fading past ; but tears or sighs 

Are not for your sweet lips — for your bright eyes ; 

What earthly joy can now your joy eclipse ? 
For, choosing well, your love could be but wise. 

And yet, I fancy that upon your brow 
There is a faint, sad shadow resting now ; 

The bended head droops lower, till at last 
Your weeping face in your pale hands you bow 

2 



Wedded 



And give yourself to grief ! Is it not so ? 
A voice calls to you from the long ago — 

A hand is stretched toward you from the past 
And joy is lost in bitterness and woe ! 

You wonder why the tears your eyes should fill ; 
You whisper to your breaking heart : " Be still ! " 
But the heart moans with yearning unsufficed— 
Vague yearning, which the world can never fill. 

For women love but once ; and if denied 
That first, sweet love, they live unsatisfied, 
Clinging to it as to the cross of Christ — 
A cross whereon their hearts are crucified. 

And this is life — the life which we must lead : 
A life of dire distress and sorest need ; 

A life which longs, but vainly longs, for rest — 
Rest for the hands that toil — the hearts that bleed. 

Aye ! this is life. Heaven's mercy on us, sweet ! 
Be it that you and I no more shall meet 

Until the grass is green above the breast, 
And God's white daisies grow at head and feet ! 



DOWN ON THE OLD PLANTATION 

In spite of politics an' sich 

A-worryin' of the nation. 
We're doin' well in Georgy Ian' 

Down on the ol' plantation. 
We're fixin' now fer cotton white — 
To fleece the fiel's from left to right. 
An' take ol' Georgy out o' sight 

Down on the ol' plantation ! 

Ain't nothin' throws us out o' gear. 

Or hinders our salvation ; 
We're good fer all the wear an' tear 

Down on the ol' plantation. 
We're workin' whilst it's called to-day 
To meet the Good Times on the way, 
An' life's a regular hooray ! 

Down on the ol' plantation. 

Fer still the seasons as they go 

Shout joy from every station. 
The joy o' reapin' what we sow 

Down on the ol' plantation. 

4 



Down on the Old Plantation 

Joy in the singin' o' the rills — 
The mockin' birds, the whippoorwills ; 
We've struck the halleluia hills 
Down on the ol' plantation I 



THE WORLD-WAY OF THE SOUTH 

Not lost in a languor of blisses, 

In valleys sweet-breathing of bloom, 
Though roses are fain of her kisses 

And stars braid her brows in the gloom ; 
Though lilies lean to her and love her. 

And the love-song is sweet in her mouth. 
And the world green — the skies blue above her — 

Sing the South ! Sing the South ! Sing the South ! 

In the strength of high faith she hath risen. 

Her flag on her mountains unfurled ; 
She hath rent the great hills that imprison 

The glittering wealth of a world. 
With the thrill of a new life elated 

The harvest its fruitfulness yields : 
And the ships, far sea-faring, are freighted 

With the fleece of her flowering fields. 

Hers all the crowned hills of Endeavor, 

The garlands, the triumphs of life ; 
Her voice is a clarion ever — 

A battle-song heard in the strife ; 
6 



The World-way of the South 

With Freedom in fairest communion^ 
With Liberty facing the Fates, 

Love-linked to the stars of the Union, 
And the flag rippling over the States. 



CHRISTMAS TIMES IN GEORGIA 



Don't care how the cotton sells 
Christmas times in Georgia ! 

Hear the ringin' o' the bells — 
Christmas times in Georgia I 

Take your place, Miss Nancy-Lou, 

Eyes like violets bright with dew ! 

Sugar is sweet, an' so are you — 
Christmas times in Georgia ! 

Don't care how the country goes — 

Christmas times in Georgia ! 
Loud an' sweet the bugle blows — 

Christmas times in Georgia ! 
Take your place, Malinda-Jane, 
Curls as bright as April rain. 
Lips as sweet as sugar-cane — 
Christmas times in Georgia ! 

Don't care how the fiddle plays- 
Christmas times in Georgia ! 

Let the roarin' oak-fires blaze- 
Christmas times in Georgia ! 
8 



Christmas Times in Georgia 

Come from east, and come from west, 
In your silks an' satins dressed, 
Kiss the one you love the best — 
Christmas times in Georgia ! 

Balance to your partners all — 

Christmas times in Georgia ! 
Lead the ladies round the hall — - 

Christmas times in Georgia ! 
Roof is ringin' ; snow an' sleet ; 
But the music's in your feet ! 
Girls '11 pay the forfeits sweet — - 

Christmas times in Georgia ! 



IN AN OLD INN 

A jolly landlord and a blazing fire; 

Without the snow, the sleet. 
Let the bleak winter wreak his heart's desire ! 

Here the old friends we meet. 

While fast the shadows of the night are falling 

No comfort shall we lack ; 
For is not FalstaflF from a corner calling : 

" Sirrah, a cup of sack ? " 

It is no time for grief — for melancholy ; 

Great tales there are to tell. 
The " Sluggish Knight " drinks with the friar jolly — 

Not from Saint Dunstan's well. 

Trampling of feet — voices in hallways humming ; 

Here a tired traveller nods ; 
A trumpet sounds * * * "The coach — the 
coach is coming ! — 

O for a coach, ye gods ! " 

Care is a river, but we've crossed the ferry 

To where the bright fields bloom. 
Chaucer comes in with tales of Canterbury 5 

Room for the old man — room ! 
10 



In an Old Inn 



He scarce hath told the tale, sweet in the telling, 

Ere a glad eye discerns 
A gentler guest. A chorus glad is swelling : 

" 'Fore God, here's Bobby Burns ! " 

Was ever yet so wonderful a party ? 

Dash down, O wintry rain ! 
Clink glasses, O my masters- drink ye hearty 

Until we meet again ! 



II 



A SONG OF HER LOVER 

Pm a-goin' to meet my lover at the grindin' of the 
cane — 
At the grindin' of the cane, 
At the grindin' of the cane ; 
He's comin' on his pony in a canter down the 

lane — 
He passes all the purty girls, an' gives his pony 
rein; 
Fer my lover's goin' to meet me, 
My lover's goin' to meet me 
At the grindin* — at the grindin' of the cane ! 

I'm a-goin* to meet my lover at the grindin' of the 
cane — 
At the grindin* of the cane, 
At the grindin' of the cane ; 
He gallops 'crost the medders — he canters down the 

lane. 
With not a kiss fer Jenny, nor a wavin' hand to Jane ; 
Fer my lover's goin' to meet me. 
My lover's goin' to meet me 
At the grindin' — at the grindin' of the cane ! 

12 



A Song of Her Lover 



Who wouldn't wait to meet him as he rides — as he 
rides 
To the grindin' of the cane, 
To the grindin' of the cane ; 
With the foam, like snow, a-fallin' from his frisky 

pony's sides; 
An' he'll be the best of husbands, an' I'll be the best 
of brides ; 
Fer my lover's goin' to meet me : 
With a kiss of love he'll greet me 
At the grin din' — at the grin din' of the cane ! 



»3 



AN OLD MAN'S MUSING 

I 

Ain't takin' no stock in the snow — it ain't what I 

love an' admire; 
I'm jest settin' here in a rickety chair an' smokin' my 

pipe by the fire. 
The trees are like skeletons white that shake in the 

wind as it blows, 
An' out in the black o' the night the hills they look 

ghostly — Lord knows ! 

II 

Ain't takin' no stock in the snow ; but, somehow or 

other, it seems 
With its lonesome-like whiteness, to take me fur back 

to the valley o' dreams ; 
An' I'm thinkin' o' friends that have left me — the 

friends that I loved long ago. 
Some of 'em fur an' divided, an' some lyin' under the 

snow. 

Ill 

I'm thinkin' of how, by the fireplace, the good wife 
was settin' that day 

When the snowflakes was fallin', an' rosy the chil- 
dren come in from their play ; 



An Old Man's Musing 

When I had not a thought that I'd ever be settin' as 

lonesome as this, 
Fur off from the love o' the children come in from 

the snov7 fer a kiss ! 

IV 

But mother an' children — where are they ? The 

mother went home long ago 
To the place where the light is eternally bright, an' 

there's never no winter an' snow. 
An' the children — they're fur from the home place, 

an' mostly fergittin to write, 
An' that's why I'm feelin' so lonesome in the snow 

that is fallin' to-night ! 

V 

But it's Life, an I ain't a-complainin', fer the Lord 

sent me skies that was fair. 
An' I'm thankful to-night fer this fire's bright light 

an' the rest o' this rickety chair ; 
But I still fall to thin kin' an' sighin', — an' I reckon 

'twill always be so. 
Till Life's fire is a handful of ashes, an' I pass o'er 

the hills of the snow. 
15 



A MORNING SONG 

I 

Open wide the windows — 

The green hills are in sight, 
Winds are whispering, " Violets ! " 

And — there's a daisy white, 
And, the great sun says " Good morning ! " and tht 
valleys sing, " Delight ! " 

II 

Open wide the windows — 

Life will not let us rest ! 
A thousand airy messengers 

From rosy east to west 
Are come with sweetest singing — with roses for: 
Love's breast. 

Ill 
No more the white-browed Winter 

With stormy, wild alarms ! 
There's a poet listening — listening. 
Where a sense of music charms 
Even the woman in the doorway with the baby in her 
arms. 

i6 



A Morning Song 



IV 

Take hands and meet the morning 

On the hills — in valleys deep : 
The Darkness was but dreaming 

Where we felt the shadows creep. 
Grief wakens on the breast of Joy who sighed him- 
self to sleep. 

V 

And the green of field and meadow. 

And the enfolding blue above, 
The clear call of the robin — 

Silver-thrush and gray-winged dove, 
Shall seem to us a recompense for lost, remembered 
Love ! 

VI 

Open wide the windows ! 

Sweet smells the rain-blest sod ; 
The seed dreams of the harvest 

And the color's in the clod ; 
And the whole world breathes the beauty of the Light 
and Love of God ! 



17 



A LITTLE COT 

It's a little cot j 

In a little spot, 
With a little heaven has sent, 

An' her hand in mine 

In rain or shine, 
An' I'm goin' my way content. 

I'm goin' my way content. 

With the blue skies over me bent ; 

An' the world is right, an' the world is wrong, 

But my heart keeps singin' a thankful song. 

It's a little way 

From that cot each day 
In the toilin' world I roam ; 

But the whole day long 

That sweet heart-song. 
And a kiss when the stars sing : " Home ! " 

A kiss for a welcome home. 
When the bees are hid in the comb ; 
An' the world is right, an' the world is wrong, 
But Love keeps singin' the same sweet song. 
i8 



A Little Cot 

The same sweet song 

Where the toilers throng 
An' the skies are cold an' gray ; 

For I hear the beat 

Of her heart so sweet, 
Callin' me — far away ! 

Callin' me — far away 

To the blooms an' the bells o' May ; 

An' the world is right, an' the world is wrong. 

But her heart keeps singin' that same sweet song. 

An' the little cot 

In the little spot 
Is dearer than domes that rise ; 

For the day is bright 

An' the night is light 
With the love in a woman's eyes. 

With the love in a woman's eyes — 

A love that never dies ; 

An' the world is right, an' the world is wrong. 

But Love keeps singin' the same sweet song. 



19 



THE WAY OLD GLORY GOES 

In sunlight or in stormy day, 

With friendliness or foes, 
The country's going just the way — 

The way " Old Glory " goes. 
To-day — to-morrow — still she waves 

Over earth's Freedom or our graves ! 

She arches earth — a rainbow's ray, 
Or, when the storm-wind blows, 

A beacon-blaze, she lights the way — 
The way that freedom goes. 

To-day — to-morrow — still she waves 
Over our glory or our graves. 



20 



WHEN THE OLD MAN GOT 
RELIGION 

When the ol' man got religion things sorter changed 

aroun', 
The house wuz topsy-turvy, the worP wuz upside 

down ; 
We didn't know what hit us ; 'peared like we'd started 

wrong ; 
Life had to be made over to his halleluia song ! 

'Twuz in the winter season ? He lit in thisaway : 
He pulled the kiver ofF us long 'fore the break o' day; 
" Stir roun' ! stir roun' !" he'd holler all up an' down 

the stairs — 
" This life's too short fer sleepin' ; rise up fer family 

prayers ! " 

We crawled out from that kiver with mournful sighs 

an' groans, 
The teeth of us a-chatterin' like minstrels beatin' 

bones ! 
An', ranged aroun' the fireplace — a mighty mournful 

ring— 
He'd holler : " Hymn Two Hundred : Let ever'body 



sing ! " 



21 



Up from Georgia 



An' you never heard such singin' sence life an' time 

begun ; 
The angels couldn't stand it, an' stopped their ears 

an' run ! 
Fer the music, comin' zig-zag frora them new singin' 

ranks, 
Wuz worse than storm-winds howlin' roun' Jordan's 

stormy banks ! 

He kept the whole house hustlin' : " Work while it's 

called To-day ! 
An' pray whilst you're a-workin' ; but work an' work 

away ! " 
But ever' youngster of us — with sad an' solium face, 
Wuz prayin' fer the ol' man to fall away from 

grace ! 

Long years have passed an' left us still with our work 

to do; 
An' the ol' man, bein' weary, went Home an' left us, 

too ; 
Led by his homely counsel safe to the shelterin' 

fold— 
Sightin' the fur-ofF city with shinin' streets of gold. 

22 



When the Old Man got Religion 

An' evermore we're praisin' of the Providence on 

high 
That the oV man got religion in the happy days gone 

by; 
An' we hope to hear him shoutin', when we reach the 

heavenly stairs, 
In the bright, Celestial mornin', — " Rise up to fam'ly 

prayers ! " 



23 



HERE'S HOPIN' 

Year ain't been the very best ; — 
Purty hard by trouble pressed ; 
But the rough way leads to rest, — 
Here's hopin' ! 

Maybe craps wuz short ; the rills 
Couldn't turn the silent mills ; 
But the light's behind the hills, — 
Here's hopin' ! 

Where we planted roses sweet 
Thorns come up an' pricked the feet 5 
But this old world's hard to beat, — 
Here's hopin' ! 

P'r'aps the buildin' that we planned 
'Gainst the cyclone couldn't stand ; 
But, thank God we've got the land^ — 
Here's hopin' ! 

Maybe flowers we hoped to save 
Have been scattered on a grave ; 
But the heart's still beatin' brave, — 
Here's hopin' 1 

24 



Here's Hopin' 



That we'll see the mornin' light — 
That the very darkest night 
Can't hide heaven from our sight,- 
Here's hopin' ! 



25 



TWO PICTURES 

I 

In the dewy morn 

I wove the red sash for my lover's sword. 

In the sound of the silver bugles 

Blowing merrily over the violet vales. 

My red lips leaned to the steel, 

And kissed it for a holy cause. 

And then — the lips of my lover — - 

And over the orchards 

The music of a farewell song. 

II 

In the mist-wreathed twilight 

I wove the white shroud for my lover's sword. 

In the sound of the muffled drums 

Moaning over the darkened vales. 

My white lips leaned to the steel, 

And kissed it, and were crimsoned. 

And then — the cold lips of my lover. 

And over the orchards 

The long, desolate Night 1 



26 



WHEN THE FALL TIME COMES 

There's somethin' like a jingle an' a tingle in the air, 
Fer the honey's jest a-drippin' from the hives ; 

The fields are lookin' frosty with the white that blos- 
soms there, 
An' the corn crap's jest the biggest of our lives ! 

Summer's a-goin' — 

Needn't beat the drums ; 
We're bound to have a showin' 

When the fall time comes ! 

There's somethin' like a jingle an' a tingle every- 
where, 
An' the blue smoke has a meanin' as it curls ; 
They're tunin' of the fiddle, an' there's music in the 
air, 
An' we'll soon be swinging corners with the girls ! 

Summer's a-goin' — 

Needn't beat the drums ; 
We're bound to have a showin* 

When the fall time comes ! 



27 



THE MERRY ROUND 

Sich a round o' pleasure — goin' left an' right, 
Daytime is a picnic — dancin' ever' night ! 
Never wuz so happy — valley, plain, or hill, 
Forty dozen weddin's, and the women willin' still ! 

Growled about the weather when the summer sun 
Wilted all the cornblades — made the toilers run ! 
But look at what it brought us ! harvests broad an' 

high, 
An' halleluias goin' In music to the sky. 

Sich a round o' pleasure ! — -when the fiddles play 
Wouldn't swap the winter fer the bloom o' May ! 
Backlog in the chimney — red sparks on the fly ; 
Cane-juice never sweeter, an' bright bead on the rye ! 

Ain't this world a great one ? Joy jest layin' round, 
Twinklin' in the frost-flakes kiverin' all the ground ; 
Never wuz so happy — valley, plain, or hill, 
Forty dozen weddin's, an the women willin' still ! 



28 



IN WIND AND RAIN 

I 

Tired out ! . . . and the wind and rain — 
Dash of the sleet at the window pane. 
And ever a flurry 

Of snow as white 
As a soul should be 

In God's own sight . . . 
And I would that she were here to-night ! 

II 

What harm if she, in the mystery 
And moan of the darkness should come to me ? 
Should come as the bloom 

From the blast and blight — 
The rose's red, 

And the rose's white, — 
Should come as a flower to my breast to-night ? 

Ill 

Have I only won from Life's storm and stress 
Starless Night and Loneliness ? 
29 



Up fkom Georgia 



Have I trampled the Wrong 

And lifted the Right, 
To see the dreams 

Of my soul take flight — - 
To long for a little of Love to-night ? 

IV 

If she should come as the storm breaks wide, 
Would the mad vi^orld strike her from my side ? 
Love claims his ovi^n 

Of right and might, 
From the depths of hell 

To a heaven's height ! . . . 
And he only asks for his own to-night ! 

V 

I am weary of dreams ... to wake and miss 
The lips God made for a lover's kiss ! 
To know that life 

Is fast in flight- 
That hell is Darkness, 
And heaven Light, 
And all that I ask is Love to-night ! 

30 



In Wind and Rain 



VI 

Tired out ! ... in the Night's despair, 
And Love shut out in the Darkness there ! 
And hell so deep, 

And heaven so high," 
And the curse of sleep 

Where a dream's a sigh ! — 
The dream of a Love that will not die ! 

VII 

Tired out ! . . . and the wind and rain, 
And the wistful eyes at the window-pane. 
Come in, O Love ! — 

The hearth's a-light, 
And your soul is white 
As the snow is white ! 
Come in from the world to your own to-night ! 



3» 



RETURN, SWEET DAY 

I 

Return, O Day, from out the vanished years 
Where now no fires on ruined altars burn 5 

I give you all Love's tenderness and tears : 
Return, sweet Day, return ! 

II 

The same sweet stars are in the heavens of blue, 
The same sad lessons Life hath still to learn. 

I am aweary for the love of you : 
Kind Day, return — return ! 

Ill 

So brief the time — so rain-dark with Love's tears — 
So vainly for one gleam of grace I yearn. 

With but one cry in all the dying years, 
" Return, sweet Day, return ! " 



32 



LIFE'S WAYSIDE INN 

I 

Let us rest us from the strife 
At this wayside Inn of Life ; 
No remembrances of years — 
Sorrows, or the fall of tears. 
Let us rest us from the throng 
Where the Silence is a song. 

II 

Let us rest : The twilight falls 
Soft on echoless, dim halls, 
Where life's withering blooms are shed- 
Life of quiet comforted. 
Stormy was the way, and long, 
But God's Silence is a song. 

Ill 

What were worldly hopes and fears? 
What were kisses — what were tears? 
What the heart's cry in the stress 
Of its unloved loneliness ? 
After all the wrath and wrong 
Comes God's Silence like a song. 

33 



Up from Georgia 



IV 

Rest, O Heart ! from storm and strife 
At this wayside Inn of Life ! 
We shall fold above the breast 
Hands that need God's gift of Rest. 
Comes the Night : the Night is long, 
But God's Silence is a song ! 



34 



EVENING SONG 

I 

The shadows deepen In the western sky, 

The birds take homeward flight ; 
And one must weep to see the dayhght die ; 
For Love is not ; and Memory is a sigh : 

Goodnight ! Goodnight ! 

II 

Did any deed unkind, dear, thrill your breast — 

A shadow in the light ? 
A look — a tone, that brought a dream unblest ? 
Breathe sweet forgiveness ere sleep whispers, " Rest : " 

Goodnight ! Goodnight ! 

Ill 

One star alone in the still heaven appears — 

A bloom where all seems blight ; 
I come to you, with trembling hopes and fears — 
I hold your hand — I kiss away your tears : 

Goodnight ! Goodnight ! 



35 



ALONG LIFE'S WAY 

I 

I only ask the strength — the grace 
To take life's crosses as they come; 

I may not always see God's face; 
In darkness I am dumb. 

Why should I murmur at the way ? 

Life must have winter, even as May. 

II 

I count my gain, and not my loss, 
And still my soul is comforted 

Though every path leads to a cross 
Whose shadows hide Love's dead. 

Out of the blackness of the night 

God weaves a laurel for the light. 

Ill 

And still far off the light appears. 
And still sweet benedictions fall ; 

The tears we shed are April tears — 
Sunlight is in them all ! 

Sorrow endureth — not for long : — 

Joy cometh with the morning song! 

36 



THE DREAM 

So, little heart, Love's summer sweets are dead — 

The glory and the gleam. 
Face the world bravely ; let no tear be shed. 

It was a dream — a dream ! 

Were there not whispers in the song-thrilled air — 

A shadow in the beam ? 
And did you think a flower could live so fair ? 

Heart, 'twas a dream — a dream ! 

We are all dreamers from the mother's breast 

Through years of peace or pain. 
Weep not past dreams ; forget them ! it is best. 

Dear, you shall dream again ! 

The world is beckoning with its bright lights — see ! 

Green fields and rippled waves. 
The lilies for the living ! There will be 

Flowers enough for graves. 

Lay by each token — touched, perhaps, with tears — 

From the new life apart. 
The wan and withered violets of sweet years. 

That dreamed above your heart. 

37 



Up from Georgia 



Playthings of Fate, that Fate would cast aside : 

Say in new strength and trust ; 
" Sweet were the violets — but the violets died ; 

Dust unto rosy dust ! " 

Dear little heart ! the mourning will be brief ; 

Lo ! a bright dawn appears. 
This world of joy is all too sweet for grief — 

Too sunny-bright for tears. 

Take up the task ; there will be strength for all ;— 

Stars through the storm will stream. 
Leave the past tearless where the dead leaves fall : 

It was a dream — a dream ! 



38 



THE VOLUNTEER 

The band was playin' '' Dixie " when he marched, 
marched away ; 

An' never any likelier lad stepped time to it that day ; 

" The finest fellow of 'em all ! " I heard the town- 
folk say. 

The band was playin' " Dixie " as he marched — 
marched away. 

How fast my wild arms held him — my boy, who 

would not stay — 
The likeliest lad that answered to the captain's call 

that day ! 
" The finest fellow of 'em all ! " An' in the red array 
Of flags that rippled over them they marched my lad 

away ! 

But a mother's fears, and prayers, and tears are noth- 
ing. War must slay. 

And the draped, deep drums were mufiled as they 
brought him home that day : 

" The finest fellow of 'em all ! " I heard the town- 
folk say. 

And his mother bendin' over him — dead at her feet 
that day ! 

39 



"HOLD ON AWHILE" 

When trouble an' trial wuz round us 
The ol' man would say, with a smile, 

" Worl' wuzn't made in a minute — 
Hold on awhile ! " 

Nothin' could ever upset him — 
Nuthin' his patience could rile : 

" Wait jest a minute ! Ain't nuthin' much in it- 
Hold on awhile ! " 

An' when at the last he wuz goln', 
He said, with a farewell, sweet smile, 

" I'll wait fer you, boys, in that heaven o' joys, 
But — hold on a while ! " 



40 



THE FALL OF FROST 

The fall o' the frost on the meadows ! An' ain't it a 
j blessin' to you ? 

[ How crisp is the air in the woodlands ! An' bare- 
\ footed boys in the dew 

I Are singin' an' springin' an' swingin' their hats where 
the summer is lost : 
We are just on the threshold of winter — for here is 
his herald — the frost ! 

The fall o' the frost on the meadows ! I tell you, the 

apples are red, 
An' the cane-juice is sweet in the drippin' from the 

little mill under the shed ! 
The fields that were fleecy with cotton are now lookin' 

lonesome an' lost ; 
But the meadows — the meadows are merry, for the 

hilltops are white with the frost ! 

The fall o' the frost on the harvest, an' isn't it spicy 

an' sweet ? 
Tune the old fiddle, an' follow its notes with the fall 

o' your feet ! 
Come in, Miss Mary ! Your partner has sorter been 

thinkin' you're lost ! 
An' we'll dance to the merriest music a welcomin' 

reel to the frost ! 

41 



THE STORY OF THE BONNET 

I'd made up my mind fer sartin that Jenny (you know 

that she 
Had named the day in her own sweet way— the day 

she would marry me ?) 
Should have the purtiest bonnet that ever the store 

folks made — 
One that would throw a rainbow just twenty mile in 

the shade ! 

Ever seen Jenny smilin' ? Ever took note of her eyes ? 
I to? her a angel made 'em from little blue patches o' 

skies ! 
Jest 'peared to twinkle sunshine ! an' whenever they 

look at me 
I see jest all o' heaven that ever I hope to see ! 

Well, I went down thar to the city, an' I tol' the 

store folks plain, 
I wanted the finest bonnet that ever come in on the 

train ; 
An' I paid my money fer it 'thout any contendin* 

words : 
It wuz all fixed up with roses, an' ribbons, an' singin' 

birds. 

42 



The Story of the Bonnet 

But now the trouble's a-comin' ! — she wuz all in 

deep distress ; 
How wuz a ten-dollar bonnet to go with a caliker 

dress ? 
Mother — she kinder shook her head ; said 'twould be 

" out o' place," 
An' Jenny, with tears a-fallin' on the roses of her face ! 

But her gran'ma come ter the rescue : " It's been 

seventy year," says she, 
" Sence I wore my weddin' dress, an' now it's good 

as it use to be : 
I've been a-keepin' it stored away — but it saddens me 

now an' then ; 
An' seein' tomorrer's the Easter day, we'll make it 

over fer Jen ! " 

Jen throwed her arms around her 'till we heard the 

gran'ma say : 
" Ever you see sich a silly gal ? She'll smother me 

thataway ! 
Go 'long an' git yer scissors, an' all o' yer needles 

bright ; 
With a hat like that a weddin' dress is jest what'll set 

you right 1 " 

43 



Up from Georgia 



An' it did ! An' seein' she looked so sweet when the 

Easter day come 'roun', 
When meetin' wuz over, the license an' the parson 

wuz easy foun' ! 
An' I ain't a-lovin' Jenny any the more, or less, 
Kaze I married her Easter mornin*^ in gran'mother's 

weddin' dress ! 



I 



44 



THE PRAYER FOR RAIN 

They've been a-preachin' it, people, that faith is a 

thing played out, 
That the angels never hear us when we sing to the 

skies, an' shout ; 
That if the world is beamin', it's Man that makes it 

bright — 
That God's voice ain't in the thunder, an' His smile 

ain't in the light. 

They've been a-preachin' it, people, from the hilltops 

fur an' nigh ; 
That the rainbow's only a ribbon roun' the black 

dress o' the sky ; 
That there ain't no promise in it, like the Good Book 

said of old — 
"It's only a dream," they tell us, with its purple an' 

its gold. 

They've been a-preachin' it, people, an' I've hearn 

'em 'long the way ; 
But I thank the Lord above us there's faith in the 

world to-day 1 

45 



Up from Georgia 



Faith in the true and steadfast — in the hearts that still 

believe 
The great an' glorious promise : — " Ask, and ye shall 

receive ! " 

Listen ! — The flowers were wiltin' . in the gardens o' 

the May; 
An' June saw the lilies droopin' in the face o' the 

rainless day ; 
An' we said : " The craps still thirstin' by the valley 

an' the plain; 
The clouds of God above us, an' never a drap o' rain! " 

An' we sat in the gloom an' grumbled, an' scowled 

at the skies above, 
Till it come to our minds the rain-clouds were ruled „ 

by a God of Love ; 
An' that comfortin' word o' Scripture — to all o' the 

hearts that grieve. 
Come to us then — sweet-sayin' : " Ask, an' ye shall] 

receive ! " 

An' the brotherin called a meetin' in the old churcl 

in the pines — 
Blest by the summer blossoms, kissed of the climbin'| 

vines j 

46 



The Prayer for Rain 

An' the preacher rose an' told us : " The Word o' 

the Lord is plain : 
Let us kneel in the Light of His Presence an' pray 

to the Lord for rain ! " 

The sky wuz jest like a oven — blazin' all roun' with 

heat, 
But Faith saw the raindrops fallin' in coolin' showers 

an' sweet ; 
An', " Lord, send the rain," cried the preacher, " to 

the hill, an' the field, an' glen ! " 
An' the very gates of heaven were shook by a loud 

« Amen ! " 

An' even as we prayed — no wonder! — bowed in His 

presence there. 
We heard God's voice in the thunder — the God that 

answers prayer ! 
We saw the flash o' the lightnin' on the field and the 

hillside, plain ! 
And we shouted : " Halleluia ! Thank God for the 

rain ! — the rain ! " 

Oh, it fell like a benediction, on the dry an' sunburnt sod ; 
Till the hills seemed clappin' their hands for joy, an' 
the glad fields said, " Thank God 1 " 
47 



Up from Georgia 



An' over its gracious fallin' rose the shout o' the 

people then, 
With " Halleluia to heaven ! " an' the chorus : 

" Amen ! Amen ! " 

Brotherin, the Bible's with us ! — the promise is true 

today : 
When you're needin' the rain or the sunshine, git 

down on your knees an' pray ! 
Thanks be to God for His blessin's, for He's with us 

now as then : 
Jest shout " Halleluia ! " to heaven, an' the angels 

will say " Amen ! " 



i 



48 



THE LATER REST 

I 

He toiled, forever faithful, in the ways where Duty 

led. 
When earth seemed like a desert, and dark clouds 

overhead ; 
And, " Ain't you feelin' weary ! " . . . But 

still his word would be : 
" On the other side of Jordan there'll be rest forme ! " 

II 

The black storms beat above him : He saw, with 

saddened heart. 
The laborers in the vineyard, one after one, depart ; 
" Oh, rest you from the toiling ! There is no light to 

see!" . . . 
" On the other side of Jordan there'll be light for me." 

Ill 

" Rest, from the toil and trouble, tired hands and 

drooping head ; 
You do but gather roses for graves that hide your 

dead ! " 
But evermore that answer, clear-ringing, far and free : 
" On the other side of Jordan there'll be rest for me ! " 

49 



Up from Georgia 



IV 

And so he toiled, and toiling, gave earth a lesson swe< 
As the Love of God that showered Love's lilies at hi| 

feet ; 
No earthly light could lure him — -no dark his faith 

could dim : — 
On the other side of Jordan there was light for him ! 



50 



AT ROLL CALL 

They answer up so smartly to the callin' o' the roll 

The night before the battle — 
Ere the cannons roar and rattle, — 
To the callin' — to the callin' o' the roll. 

« All here ! " 

Faces dear, 

To women weeping near — 
Whose cheeks have lost the rose-tints, whose lips are 
white with fear, — 

" All here — 

All here ! " 

They answer up so faintly to the callin' o' the roll 

After the clashing battle — 

When the guns have ceased to rattle, — 
To the callin' — to the callin' o' the roll. 

" Missing there ! " 

Faces dear 

To the women weeping near — 
Heart broken, and with pallid lips too tremulous for 
prayer, — 

" Missing there — 

Missing there ! " 

51 



THE LAST OF THE GRENADIERS 

The tears from their eyes were falling — from eyes 

that, unafraid, 
Had met the swords that glittered at the breasts of the 

Old Brigade :— 
No wonder they heard the thunder that is echoing 

down the years. 
And the man that sang of the battle was the last of 

the grenadiers ! 

The last of the men that listened — where blood like a 
river ran. 

And the guns of a leagued world glistened — to the 
call of the Corsican ! 

That call that is ringing^ — ringing over the wreck of 
years. 

(Ah ! he was singing — singing — the last of the grena- 
diers !) 

He sang that day to the Old Brigade : " I was there, 

in the crimson fray, 
And I saw the Little Corporal in the Emperor's coat 

of gray I 

52 



JThe Last of the Grenadiers 

;i -: 

The man of the Bridge of Lodi, who rallied and led 
I the men. 

'Twas a deadlier dew at Waterloo, but we fought with 
the General then ! 

" He cried : ' 'Tis the guns of Grouchy ! Courage ! 

he comes — he comes ! ' 
And the flags of the Old Guard fluttered, and they 

rushed to the rolling drums ! 
They rushed to the ridge, revengeful — on the tigers 

crouched for prey — 
And they fought as never a man had fought, for the 

Emperor's sake that day ! 

" They fought and died ! . . . and side by side 
they filled the gulf of death, 

Yet still cried : ' Vive I'Empereur ! ' with even their 
dying breath ! 

They fought and died — with death defied those bayo- 
nets dripping red 

And gave to France the glory of the brave, heroic 
dead ! 



53 



Up from Georgia 



" I saw him in the darkness — after the fight was o'er: 
I saw him in the darkness, whom I shall see no more! 
And the darkness closed around him, but as his form 

grew dim, 
I felt, where I lay bleeding, proud that I bled for 

him ! " 



The tears from their eyes were falling— from eyes that 

were unafraid ; 
That had met the swords that glittered at the breasts 

of the Old Brigade : — 
No wonder ! They heard the thunder that is echoing 

down the years, 
And the man that sang of the battle was the last of 

the Grenadiers I 



•54 



HE DANCES LIFE AWAY 

Does he ask how corn is sellin', or if cotton's up or 

down ? 
Is he bothered 'bout the country, or the stocks that 

make the town ? 
Is he worried 'bout the winter, is he sighin' fer the 

May? 
No ! A feller picks the banjer, an' he dances life 

away 

Does he shrink from all the toilin' in the white blaze 

o' the sun, 
In the hot sand o' the furrow where the larks before 

him run ? 
No ! You never find him tired ; when the sun hai 

left the day 
A feller picks the banjer an' he dances life away ! 

No problem of the races in the hovel or the dome ; 
He knows his face is blacker than the chimney-back 

at home. 
But ever more it's smilin', an' he's happy night an' 

day. 
For a feller picks the banjer, an' he dances life away I 
55 



DEAR LITTLE FELLOW | 

I 

Dear little fellow, don't forget — 

Leaving you now, that I love you yet ! 

Just as I did in a far, fair day 

When your eyes were light, and your smile was May, 

In the beautiful — beautiful far-away ! 

Dear little fellow, don't forget — 

Leaving you now, that I love you yet ! 

II 

Dear little fellow, don't forget — 

Leaving you now, that my eyes are wet 

With tears for the years that may come to you 

When the shadows darken your eyes of blue. 

And the dreams are false where the dreams seemed 

true ! 
In the desolate darkness don't forget — 
Leaving you now, that I love you yet ! 

Ill 

Dear little fellow ! Life is but this : 

A glad Good-morning — a Good-night kiss^ 

A hope, a fear, and a falling tear — 

56 



Dear Little Fellow 

A cross to clasp and a cross to bear, 
And laurels and thorns for the brows to wear ! 
But dear little fellow, don't forget — 
Leaving you now, that I love you yet ! 



57 



IN THE BRANCH 

I sit here dreamin% dreamin' of the dear oV country 

ranch, 
An** a barefoot boy a-wadin' in the cool an' shaded 

branch ; 
" Splash, splash ! " I hear the water, an' every ripple 

seems 
To make a rill o"" music that's runnin' through my 
dreams ! 

" Splash, splash ! " the water goes ; 
Downward to the mill it flows ; 
What cares he for thorn or rose ? 
Water's cool — that's all he knows ! 
I sit here dreamin', dreamin* of the sweeter light that 

shines 
On the wild blackberry blossoms an' the honeysuckle 

vines ; 
And " Splash ! " I hear the water that in the sunshine 

gleams, 
An' a rill o' music runnin' through the shadows o' 
my dreams ! 

" Splash, splash f " the water goes ; 
Downward to the mill it flows ; 
Cares the boy for thorn or rose ? 
Water's cool — that's all he knows ! 

58 



I 



In the Branch 



I sit here dreamin', dreamin' till I seem to slip away, 
Where the water loved to ripple past meadows sweet 

with hay; 
Where dusky doves are wingin' in mornin's earliest 
beams 
J An' the barefoot boy is singin' — is singin' in my 
dreams ! 

" Splash, splash ! " the water goes ; 
Downward to the mill it flows ; 
What cares he for thorn or rose ? 
Water's cool — that's all he knows ! 



59 



i 



HIS BEST i 

I 

" Fellers, I have done my best ! '* 
So he said, and went to rest 
Like a child that, tired of play, 
At the closing of the day. 
Lays him on his mother's breast. 

II 

'' Fellers, I have done my best ! " 

Hands where Death's cold lips were pressed 

Folded were, as if in prayer. 

In the after-silence there — 

Folded gently o'er his breast. 

Ill 

All, in those last words expressed ! — 

All of pain, of grief unguessed ! 

Who than this can better say 

At the closing of life's day — 

" Fellers, I have done my best ! " 



60 



TEN ACRES AND MARY 

Fm up an' away 

At break o' day, 
An' never of work I'm weary ; 

For I sing this song 

As I toil along — 
*' I've got ten acres an' Mary ! " 

Troubles enough — 

For the worl' is rough, 
An' things will go contrary ; 

But ever this song 

As I trudge along — 
" I've got ten acres an' Mary ! " 

No angel bright, 

With wings of light ; 
Of a angel I'd grow weary ; 

But a woman true, 

That's a joy to you— 
" I've got ten acres an' Mary ! " 



6i 



IN HALLELUIA TOWN 

The namin' o' the settlement wuz hard to bring 

about ; 
Each feller made suggestions, an' still we wuz in 

doubt ; 
So, we helt a big town meetin', an' — 'peared like 

providence — 
We named her " Halleluia," an' we've all been happy 

sence ! 

They ain't no growlers in it — on ever plain an' 

slope 
The sun is shinin' brightly — the stars air whisperin' 

hope ; 
An' all the folks '11 tell you, for miles an' miles 

aroun', 
There ain't no thorns along the road to Halleluia 

Town ! 

'Twuz inspiration in it — that Halleluia name ! 
It brung about good feelin', it sot our souls aflame ! 
An' what to us air mansions in cities of renown, 
So long as we air happy in Halleluia Town 1 

62 



In Halleluia Town 

For there the birds air singin', the fields air flowerin' 

fine; 
The sun jest don't know nothin' but how to rise an' 

shine ! 
An' what a blessed world 'twould be — without a care 

or frown, 
If folks would only emigrate to Halleluia Town ! 



63 



A SONG IN APRIL 

I 
Here's to fickle love or true — 

Hands that clasp to sever : 
Mistress Nell, a health to you — ■ 

Joy be yours forever ! ^ 
April winds are out to-day, 
Blowing blossoms sweet your way, 

II 

Here's to fickle love or true, 
And a glad thanksgiving 

For that sky's unshadowed blue 
And the joy of Hving ! 

For that kinder love and sweet 

In the violets at your feet. 

Ill 

Love will come, and love will go 
Like the light on clover : 

It is but a dream, you know : — 
Dreams so soon are over ! 

But for roses or for rue. 

Mistress Nell, a health to you ! 

64 



IN FIELDS OF BLOOM 

I reckon rm kin to the lilies : I toil not, an' never 
spin ; 

I only answer to roll-call when the winds from the 
west blow in 

Over the dew-drenched medders — over the song- 
sweet rills, 

An' the sun with a glad " Good-mornin' " reads the 
dreams o' the drowsy hills. 

What do I want to toil fer, when the golden bee 

contrives 
To feed a feller on honey stored in the drippin' 

hives ; 
When I see the color creepin' to the peach's rosy 

roun' 
An' the red-ripe apples are fallin' an' dentin' the wet, 

sweet groun' ? 

\ Never was made fer a worker ; how kin I stack the 

hay 
Or follow the furrow when all the birds are singin' 

my soul away ? 
Singin' my soul away to the medder-grasses sweet ; 
With the green o' the boughs above me an' the 

violets at my feet ? 

65 



Up from Georgia 



Reckon Tm kin to the lilies — that's what the workers 

say; 
Brother-in-law to the medder dressed fer the marriage 

with May; 
But I alius answer to roll-call — though I toil not, an' 

never spin ; 
The roll-call o' the roses when the winds from the 

west blow in ! 



66 



THE MORNING 

I 

The good time that's coming is not far away ; 
The weariest Winter is dreaming of May ; 
Out o' the darkness the light o' day — 

The morning ! the morning ! the morning ! 

II 

What of the sorrows of all the dark years — 
What of the lost hopes, and what of the fears ? 
After the grief and the rain o' the tears — 
The morning ! the morning ! the morning ! 

Ill 

Fast part the storm-clouds, unveiling the bright ; 
The ships hear the home-bells — the harbor's in sight ; 
And we dream, and we drift evermore to the light — 
The morning ! the morning ! the morning ! 



67 



WHEN JENNY CAME ALONG 

Fishin' in the river, an' Jenny come along, 
Apern full o' flowers, an' singin' of a song ; 
" Shame to ketch them fishes — cruel ^tis an' wrong ! " 
That wuz what she toF me — when Jenny come 
along. 

Fishin' pole wuz noddin' — fish a-pullin' strong; 
Never had sich luck as that, when Jenny come along ; 
Knowed she wuz a-comin', by the blossoms roun' the 

place ; 
Water, like a lookin' glass, showin' of her face. 

Wound up that 'ere tackle — let the fishin' go : 
Walked with her through meadows, with daisies white 

as snow ; 
Wind a-blowin' in my face the bright locks round 

her brow : — 
Never did like fishin' in a river, anyhow ! 



68 



IN CAMPMEETIN' TIME 

Gittin' to'rds campmeetin'-time — fixin' up the tent, 
An' groomin' all the oxen in the Billville settlement; 
We that ain't up on singin' air a-projickin' about, 
An' some air tryin' of their lungs to shout the loudest 
shout ! 

Some don't believe in shoutin', but to me it's cl'ar as 

day 
Ef a feller has religion it'll sometimes act that way ! 
It ain't no sign the angels air deef up thar on high, 
But we jest can't help a-sendin' in a halleluia cry ! 

Some preachers preach about it from mornin' till the 

night. 
An' say the shoutin' fellers ain't got religion right ! 
They rule it out o' meetin' ; but I feel it more an' 

more, 
A shipwrecked feller's 'bleeged to shout the time he 

sights the shore ! 

Fer he's been lost an' lonesome on the ocean's roarin' 

tide. 
An' when he sees the lights shine on the welcome 

other side, 

69 



Up from Georgia 



It ain't a bit o' wonder, in the night o' storm an' 

foam, 
He shouts that shout o' welcome — fer he hears the 

bells o' home ! 

But — talkin' 'bout campmeetin' — we're fixin' fer it 

fine ; 
An' ef it comes to shoutin', we'll ax the worl' to jine ! 
We'll let each brother have his way — each one that's 

feelin' blest — 
An' tell us, any fashion, how he likes religion best ! 



70 



THE SHIP'S COMING HOME 

Ever the light in the window — the light that flared 
over the foam ; 

And ever the faith of a woman : " The ship's com- 
ing home — coming home ! " 

Ever the rose in the garden, when the wild larks 
were winging the loam ; 
il And ever the faith of a woman : " The ship's com- 
ing home — coming home ! " 

In dreams, the brave call of the captains, from over 

the storm and the foam : 
" Keep bright the love-light in the harbor ! The ship's 

coming home — coming home ! " 

Ever the beat of the billows — the stars in the blue of 

the dome; 
And the wind that is waving the willows : " The 

ship's coming home — coming home ! " 

And the weird, far call of the captains, and the toss of 

the turbulent foam; 
And the voice of the faith of a woman : " The ship's 

coming home — coming home ! " 

71 



*^ TOLLABLE WELL!" 

Spite o' the tempests a-blowin', 
Still had one story to tell : 

Bright, sunny weather, or snowin', 
Alius felt " tollable well." 

Half o' the settlement sighin' — 
Things gone to ruin, pell-mell ! 

Never did hear him a-cryin' — 
Alius felt " tollable well ! " 

'Course he had trouble an' sorrow 
(Come to us all fer a spell). 

But, seein' a brighter to-morrow, 
He alius felt " tollable well." 



72 



A POOR, PLAIN COLONEL 

Vd like to j'ine the army, an' go 'long with the re- 
cruits : 

Vd be shore to show off handsome in them regimental 
boots ; 

Fd beat 'em all a-shinin' — I'd throw 'em in the shade ; 

But I'm jest a poor, plain colonel, an' I ain't got no 
brigade ! 

I'd like to j'ine the army : I'd be shore to cut a dash, 
With spurs to make the mare go, an' a shiny sword 

an' sash; 
I'd make the finest record that a feller ever made ; 
But I'm jest a poor, plain colonel, an' I ain't got no 

brigade ! 

Oh, I'd like to j'ine the army : I'd be shore to make 

my way, 
An' beat the best o' brigadiers a-drawin' of their pay ! 
But I'm loafin' roun' the homestead — eatin' melons in 

the shade ; 
Fer I'm jest a poor, plain colonel, and I ain't got no 

brigade ! 

73 



BEFORE A FINE OAK FIRE 

Who's talkin' 'bout the summer time 
When all the skies perspire ? 

Jest give me winter, brotherin', 
An' a fine oak fire ! 

The sleety rain a-comin' down — 
The wind a-howlin' higher 

Than all the steeples in the town, 
An' me — before a fire, 

With " cider " settin' on the shelf — 

The brand I most desire ; 
The blaze a-talkin' to itself — 

The language o' the fire. 

That's when the coldest winter night 

A reg'lar picnic seems. 
The sparks a-flyin' left an' right. 

An' me a-dreamin' dreams ! 

That's when I'm comfortabler than 

I am on summer days 
When buds an blossoms bresh yer han' 

An vi'lets crowd the ways. 
74 



Before a Fine Oak Fire 

An' when a feller's dreamin' so 
His ol' sweethearts come nigher, 

Love takes a seat an' warms his feet 
Before a fine oak fire ! 



75 



AN ANSWERED PRAYER 

Our John's been made a doctor — so all the papers 

tell, 
An' he's lookin' 'roun' fer business, but the folks are 

keepin' well 5 
But his mother, she is hopeful, for he's got to pay his 

bills. 
An' she's asked the Lord fer measels an' a sprinklin' 

of the chills ! 

It's been a month, I reckon, sence they took an' 

turned him out. 
But the country is so healthy that the doctors are in 

doubt j 
But his mother keeps on prayin', while he's dodgin' 

of his bills: 
An' she's asked the Lord fer measels an' a sprinklin' 

of the chills ! 

^^ These women has a lot o' faith — they never loose 

their hold. 
(I wonder what's the matter now ? I'm gittin' kinder 

cold ! 
The good Lord's gone an' answered her, an' John '11 

pay his bills; 
Fer if this here ain't the measels, it's a-sprinklin' of 

the chills !) 

76 



BLOOMS 

Fairy fingers o' the Frost, 
Whatsoever may be lost, 
Spare the blossoms of that tree 
Whose red blooms are life to me, — 
Even the blooms of Memory ! 

In Life's garden it stands — There, 
Braving storm and wintry air; 
When Life's scattered blooms I see 
Trampled where the black storms be, 
Faithful still to Memory. 

Fairy fingers o' the Frost, 
Let not these dear blooms be lost ! 
Pass them by all pityingly, — 
Let the May their mother be 
In a land of Memory ! 



77 



AT THE OPERA 

Fve been an' heerd the opery — an' I reckon it wuz 

grand ; 
But the music I've been raised to is " Dixie " by the 

band J 
" Way Down in Alabama," an' " Darlin' Nelly Gray," 
An' that hifalutin' singing made a feller lose his way ! 

An' then, the words wuz furrin', an' I r'aly never 
knowed 

How to track 'em an' to keep 'em in the middle o' 
the road; 

Fer what I wuz a-wantin' — but I hoped fer it in 
vain — 

Wuz a hvely double-shuffle, an' " Han's Roun', Liza- 
Jane ! " 

But the folks applauded lively, till all the house wuz 

stirred. 
Though them that cheered the loudest couldn't under 

stand a word ! 
An' I hired of a feller fer a quarter of a dollar. 
To nudge me at the proper time, an' tell me when to 

holler. 

78 



I 



i 



i 



At the Opera 



I stood it out, right noble, an' when the thing wuz 

through, 
Sez I : " I reckon that you done the best you all 

could do ; 
But you didn't hit me heavy ! " an' I struck on 

comin' down, 
A feller whistlin' " Dixie," an' foUered him roun' 

town ! 



79 



OUR COUNTRY'S CALL 

With trump to trump replying 
Still bright her sabres shine, 

With all her old flags flying 
And all her men in line. 

She calls them from the highlands 
Where tower her green hills free 5 

The far Atlantic islands 
Still answer from the sea ! 

They come as in the darkened 
And deadly days of yore, 

When to the cry they hearkened 
And braved the battle's roar! 

Her cause is never dying — 
Still bright her sabres shine. 

With all her old flags flying, 
And all her men in line ! 



80 



AS THE BOYS GO MARCHING BY 

Doesn't It thrill a fellow — make a glitter in his eye 

And a fidget in his footsteps — when the boys go 
marching by ? 

Old mem'ries throng around him — with no regret or 
sigh. 

He hails the shining columns as the boys go march- 
ing by ! 

He seems to hear the rattle of the rifles once again, 
As in the days God's daisies were reddened by the 

rain. 
The clamor of the captains — the charge and the 

retreat, 
And thinks of Love that listens for unreturning feet. 

Doesn't it thrill a fellow ? Wrinkled and gray he 

stands ; 
But oh ! the gleam o' bayonets, and the banners and 

the bands ! 
The white hair falling over the brows of the old-time 

braves. 
As they answer to the roll-call over their comrades' 

graves. 

8i 



Up from Georgia 



Love of a common country : Peace on the plain and 
hill : 

And peace where the boys are marching to the far 
tents, white and still. 

North and South in the union, and never a tear or 
sigh ; 

But doesn't it thrill a fellow when the boy? go march- 
ing by ! 



82 



THE MIRACLE DAYS 

Good folks, the days o' miracles ain't past an' gone 

away : 
The weather man predicted snow, an' here's the snow 

to-day ! 
They know the path the sun an' moon air travellin' — 

so they do — 
They've tracked the stars of heaven an' caught the 

comets, too ! 

They know jest how the ol' world rolls — they've got 

it down by heart ; 
They know the cyclone's comin' 'fore it ever makes 

a start ! 
They know the awful distance from here up to the 

sun ; 
They've counted all the worlds above, an' named 

'em — every one ! 

Ain't nuthin hidden from 'em — they know the all-in- 
all ! 
When obstacles air risin' they batter down the wall 
An' stand in all the glory an' beauty o' the light, 
A-givin' out this verdict — that there shall be no night ! 

83 



Up from Georgia 



An' I r'a'ly wouldn't wonder, at the pace we're bein' 
led, 

Ef they shook the world like thunder by the raisin' o' 
the dead ! 

Fer, step by step they're goin' upon the upward way^ 

Till a feller's glad he's livin' in a world like this to- 
day ! 



A PRETTY GOOD WORLD 

Pretty good world If you take it all round — 

Pretty good world, good people ! 
Better be on than under the ground — 

Pretty good world, good people ! 
Better be here where the skies are as blue 
As the eyes of your sweetheart a-smilin' at you— 
Better than lyin' 'neath daisies and dew — 

Pretty good world, good people ! 

Pretty good world with its hopes and its fears — 

Pretty good world, good people ! 
Sun twinkles bright through the rain of its tears — - 

Pretty good world, good people ! 
Better be here, in the pathway you know — 
Where the thorn's in the garden where sweet roses 

grow. 
Than to rest where you feel not the fall o' the snow — 

Pretty good world, good people ! 

Pretty good world ! Let us sing it that way — 

Pretty good world, good people ! 
Make up your mind that you're in it to stay— 

At least for a season, good people ! 

85 



Up from Georgia 



Pretty good world, with its dark and its bright — 
Pretty good world, with its love and its light ; 
Sing it that way till you whisper, " Good-night ! 
Pretty good world, good people ! 



86 



SINGING HIM TO SLEEP 

The river's singin' to the sea — the river cool an' 

deep, — 
An' the reason that I know it is it's singin' me to 

sleep ! 
Past all the plains an' medders — past fiel's whar folks '11 

reap, 
It's singin' me to sleep, folks — it's singin' me to sleep ! 

Singin' me to sleep 

Whar they sow an' reap — 

In the shadders 

O' the medders 
It's singin' me to sleep ! 

It's jest a-lazyin' along ; — no track o' time I keep ; 
I only know the river's song is singin' me to sleep. 
The busy worl' is workin' — the busy worl' must 

weep, 
But the river as it ripples on is singin' me to sleep ! 

Singin' me to sleep 

Whar they sow an' reap — 

In the shadders 

O' the medders 
It's singin' me to sleep ! 

87 



Up from Georgia 



I ain't got no ambition ; — the hills air mighty steep ! 
I'm happier whar the river is singin' me to sleep. 
Never did like workin' — too hot to sow or reap ; 
I only wish the river could sing the worl' to sleep ! 

Singin' me to sleep : — ^ 
Folks that work must weep ; 

But in shadders 

O' the medders 
It's singin' me to sleep ! 



88 



THE BLESSED RAIN 

Dear heart, dost thou complain 
When the kind God sends rain ? 

Think of the thirsting crops 

That drink the beady drops — 
Think of the flowers, unfolding all their sweets— 
The city's burning streets, 

The famished flocks upon the mountain tops — 
The windless casements where the sick in vain 

Cry for the cool, sweet rain ! 
Think — and thank God 
For every drop that quivers on a clod ! 



89 



OUT IN THE WEATHER 

Out in the weather, with the blooms and with the 

birds ! 

Set the sweetest music to the sweetest human words ! 

Ring, bells, ring ! 

And blossoms sway and swing ! 

For all the world is love, my dear, when all the work 

is spring. 

Out in the weather, with the blossoms and the breeze, 

The sunshine's gold and silver on the tresses o' the 

trees ! 

Ring, bells, ring ! 

While birds in music sing ! 

All the world is love, my dear, when all the world ij 

spring ! 

Out in the weather — the weather fair and free ! 
And a river, and a meadow, and a mocking-bird for me 
Ring, bells, ring. 
Where pink the blossoms swing ! 
For all the world is love, my dear, when all the world 
is spring. 

90 



AN INDIAN-SUMMER DAY 

Afar in tangles mazy- 
Are gold and scarlet gleams; 

But golden-rod and daisy 

Tell not the winds their dreams. 

But even the winds seem dead, for they 

Ruffle no rose-leaf on their way. 

And yonder where the hill is 
No blade — no bloom is stirred 5 

Still are the water-lilies : 

There is no whispered word 

To wake the world, that wakes to weep ; 

Let it sleep — let it sleep ! 



91 



A ROCKABY SONG 

He all time winkin' at me wid his li'l shiny eye — 
He de worrienst er chillum fer ter make 'im rockaby ! 
I wonders why dey let 'im leP de playgroun' in de 
sky ! 
He won't go ter sleepy twell de mawnin' ! 

I tells 'im 'bout de creeturs dat '11 come en' ketch 'im 

sho' 
Ef his li'l eyes stay open — better shet de sleepy do' ! 
But bless his honey-sweetness ! w'y, he only wink de 

mo' [— 
He won't go ter sleepy twell de mawnin' ! 

But ain't his face a pictur ? Sweetest one I ever see 5 
En' dem eyes er his is bluer dan de sky kin hope ter 

be ; 
En' I sorter feels dat heaven's keepin' company wid^ 

me 
Whar he won't go ter sleepy twell de mawnin' ! 



92 



GOODBY, MISTER RAIN 

Sunshine jest a-comin' down 

'Crost de hill en plain ! 
Now Miss Nancy drive ter town — 

Goodby, Mister Rain ! 
She gwine buy dat Easter hat j 
(Won't she look too sweet in dat ?) 
Make dem beaux say : " Whar she at ? " 

Goodby, Mister Rain ! 

Lizard lookin' mighty spry, 

Run lak railroad train ! 
Spread he blanket out ter dry — 

Goodby, Mister Rain ! 
Rabbit rise up in de grass — 
See Miss Nancy gwine pass ; 
Bluebird sing : " She come at las* ! " 

Goodby Mister Rain ! 

Wes' Win' say : " I'll run a race 

Down dat hill en plain; 
Gwine ter kiss Miss Nancy face ! " 

Goodby, Mister Rain ! 
Red Rose say : " I up ter dat ! 
She gwine wear me on her hat, — 
Make dem beaux say ' Whar she at ? ' " 

Goodby, Mister Rain ! 

93 



HOE YOUR ROW 

De fiel's '11 soon be hummin' 
Roun' de country high en low ; 

De harves' is a-comin' : 
Hoe yo' row ! 
Hoe yo' row ! 

No time now fer de sleeper; 

It's " Git up now, en go ! " 
It's de sower makes de reaper; 

Hoe yo' row ! 

Hoe yo' row ! 

It's sweet de birds is singin' 
De songs you lovin' so ; 

But de harves' bells is ringin' ; 
Hoe yo' row ! 
Hoe yo' row ! 



94 



I 



HIS TIME FOR SINGING 

Chicken-hawk a-sailin' high, 
Hoppergrass a-springin' ; 

Come 'long, Mister Mockin'-bird, 
Hit's yo' time fer singin' ! 

Brown straw in de bluebird bill, 

Cattle-bells a-ringin' ; 
Wake up, Mister Mockin'-bird, 

Hit's yo' time fer singin' ! 

Swallow in de ol'-time gourd 
Havin' fun a-swingin'; 

Rouse up, Mister Mockin'-bird, 
Hit's yo' time fer singin' ! 



95 



THE COLORED DANCING MATCH 

I 

'Twuz in de dancin' season w'en de fros' wuz layin' 

roun' 
En de rabbit wuz a-gwine lak a gray ghos' 'cross de 

groun' — 
Wen de lazies'er niggers wuz a-comin' terde scratch — 
Dat we took de whole plantation wid de cullud Dan- 

cin' Match. 

2 
De prize wuz — lemme see now ; Two hams, a sid er 

meat, 
Sack er flour, en a jimmyjohn what had a mouth ez 

sweet 
Ez a hive a-drippin' honey — ez a red rose, w'en de 

dew 
Sorter tilts it, 'twell it's leanin' ter de bees what drinks 

ter you. 

3 

De flo' wuz smooth en sanded, de fiddler in his place — 
De lively music ripplin' 'cross de wrinkles in his face 
En lightin' up de eyes er him, en tinglin' ter his feet : 
" Good Times in Ole Verginny," en " Kentucky's 
Hard ter Beat ! " 

96 



The Colored Dancing Match 

4 
De schedule fer de dancin' wuz " All git in de ring ! " 
En " Who'll hoi' out de longes' whilst dey got a foot 

ter fling ! " 
Dey wuz twenty answer roll-call, lak a sojerin' brigade, 
En dey never wuz sich dancin' sence a fiddle-string 

wuz made ! 

5 

En couple after couple — fagged out en short er 
breath — 

Went reelin' f'um dat dancin' 'fo' dey dance deyse'f 
ter death ! 

All of 'em 'cept Br'er Williams : he wuz in de ring 
fer sho', 

En his foots des kep' a-kickin' er de white san' f'um 
de flo' ! 

6 

De fiddlestick a-flyin', de lights a-gittin' low, 

De music in a gallop, en Br'er Williams on de go ! 

" You wins de prize, Br'er Williams ! " — But still de 
fiddler played. 

En lightnin' wuzn' nuthin' ter de steps Br'er Will- 
iams made ! 

97 



Up from Georgia 



* 



7 
He dance so fas', I tell you he paralyze dem folks ; 
Lak a wagon-wheel a-gwine 'twell you des can't see 

de spokes ! 
Wid shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, en many a turn en twist. 
His form a-gittin' misty, en de fiddler in de mist ! v 

8 

De lights gone out ; de owl hoot ; de dogs begin ter 
bark. 

En Br'er Williams lookin' ghos'-like wid dat dancin' 
in de dark ! 

Out de winders jumped de people ; de mules com- 
mence ter prance. 

En 'twuz, " Good Lawd, he'p Br'er Williams, fer 
de devil's in de dance ! " 

9 

Dey gallo^fed 'cross de country — de wagon's rattlin* 

'long ; 
But still heerd dat fiddle gwine in a mos' ondyiri song ! 
En lookin' back, dey sighted in de skeery-lookin' light 
Br'er Williams still a-dancin' lak a shadder in de 

night. 

98 



The Colored Dancing Match 

10 

En In de dancin' season, Pum de valley en de hill 
Dey kin see Br'er Williams dancin' — heah de fiddle 

playin' still, 
En heah de night owls hootin', see de ole ha'nts 

stan'in' round'. 
Whilst Br'er Williams' ghos' is movin' ter de fiddle's 

squeaky soun'. 

II 

En dar he'll dance ferever, w'en de fros' is fallin' 

gray; 
En dat terrifyin' fiddler makes de same ol' fiddle play ; 
You kin heah de flo' a-creakin', en de win' all mo'n- 

ful sighs ; 
En we don't want no mo' dancin' whar de devil wins 

de prize ! 

LafC. 



99 



"DES A LFL^ CABIN'* 

Des a li'r cabin, en a white road leadin' ter it ; 
I foUers up de furrer, en I hoe de cotton fer it -, 

Chillun on de flo', 

En a woman in de do', 
Singin' en singin' in de mawnin'. 

Des a liT cabin in de shadder er de pines. 

Frame wid honeysuckles en de mornin' glory vines ; 

Li'r spot o' groun' 

Wid de chillun playin' roun', 
Singin' en singin' in de mawnin'. 

Des a li'r cabin whar de firelight I see, 

Twinklin' er a welcome 'cross de cotton fields ter me. 

Sayin' : " Whar you roam 

Heah's yo' home, yo home, yo' home ! " 
Singin' en singin' in de mawnin'. 

Des a li'l' cabin ; yit it frequent 'pears so high, 
Dey kin hear what we a-sayin' in de mansions in de 
sky ! 
Dis word de sweet word said — 
" Give us our daily bread ! " 
Singin' en singin' in de mawnin'. 
100 



*'Des a Li'l Cabin" 

Des a li'r cabin whar de blue smoke rise en curl, 
Kin hoi' enough er happiness ter reach eroun' de 
worF ! 

Dey tells me dat I po' — 

But de woman's in de do' 
Singin' en singin' in de mawnin'. 



lOI 



A SPRINGTIME PHILOSOPHER 

I kin tell w'en Springtime comin' by de mos' onfa'il- 
irC signs ; 

Tain't de risin' sap what tingle ter de tip-top er de 
pines, 

Or de fros' what leP de furrer, or de larks a-flyin' 
low 

Or de whistle er de pa'tridge kaze he love his sweet- 
heart so ! 

But I sorter hez a feelin' what I dunno how ter call, 
Dat ef I wuz a blossom I'd hang low, en never fall ! 
Dat ef Gabrul blowed his trumpet fer de sleepin' 

folks ter rise 
I'd des feel too contented fer ter wake en rub my 

eyes ! 

Hit's somepin' in de elements — de blowin' er de breeze, 
De Itstenin' er de lily fer de comin' er de bees ; 
De lazy river gwine 'long a-feelin' er his way 
Ter de medders, en sweet places whar de honey- 
suckles stay. 

102 



A Springtime Philosopher 

De sun, he say " Good-mawnin' ! " whar de fiel's is 

drench wid dew, 
En I des ain't enterprisin' 'nufF ter tell 'm, " Same ter 

you ! " 
De trees, dey tells me " Howdy ! We a-dressin' fer 

de show, 
En soon we'll meet de mockin' birds en swing 'em 

high en low ! " 

But I never makes no answer ! I des lays back so 

still 
En lazy in de sunshine — lak I los' my way en will ! 
Wid eyes shet tight, en dreamin' in my app'inted 

place, 
I wouldn't bresh a bluefly f'um de furrers in my 

face ! 

Oh, I knows w'en Spring's a comin', en I done laid 

down my rule, 
Dat I wuzn't bo'n fer plowin' en gee-hawin' er de 

mule. 
But fer listenin' ter de cattle bells 'cross daisies cool 

en deep, 
Wid de feelin' what de trees hez w'en dey rocks de 

birds ter sleep ! 

103 



TWO VIEWS OF IT 

W'en de blizzard blow my neighbor house 
Clean off de whole plantation, 

En he weep en cry, 

En moan en sigh. 

En he fin' hisse'f leP high en dry 

Dat's done fer his soul's salvation ! 

W'en de blizzard blow my house away, 
En I howls lak all creation. 

Hit's plain ez day 

En a furrer in May, 

(I des don't keer what my neighbor say.) 
Dat's a mighty strange dispensation ! 



I 



104 



THE WAY TO THE MELON PATCH 

Don't want no moon, en not one match 
Fer ter light my way ter de melon patch; 

Night or day 

(Dat what I say !) 
I kin shet my eye en fin' my way ! 

De road ez white ez a streak er light ; 

But I takes de path whar de san' ain't bright; 

Kaze de white man wait 

By de shotgun gate, 
Fer ter blow me clean 'cross Georgy state ! 

So, take yo' moon, en keep yo' match ; 
I knows my way ter de melon patch ! 

Night or day. 

Whilst you watch en pray, 
I shets my eye en I fin's my way ! 



105 



SWING DEM SISTERS 

Th'ow some white san' on dat flo' — - 
Put some rozzum on dat bow; 
Dis heah's Chris'mus time fer sho'=— 
Swing dem sisters ! 

Do dat ol' time fiddle proud ! 
Call de figgers — call 'em loud i 
Who dance bes' in all de crowd ? 
Swing dem sisters ! 

Han's all roun', en' " Short'in Bread 5 
Fling yo' boots an' ben' yo' head ; 
Dance ontell you shake de shed — 
Swing dem sisters ! 

Winders rattlin', en de wall 
Shakin' lak' he gwine ter fall I 
Come in one, en come in all — 
Swing dem sisters ! 



106 



FOR CHRISTMAS GRACE 

I ax de Lawd fer Chris'mus grace— 
Ter sen' dese chillun some ; 

But dar's no chimbly ter de place, 
How Santy Glaus gwine come ? 

I wonders whar we all so po', 

Ef he'll come knockin' at de do' ? 

In dey sweet sleep de chillum stir — 
Dey heahs de bells in town ; 

I wish we had a chimbly fer 
De oV man ter come down ! 

You reckon, whar we's all so po% 
Dat he'll come knockin' at de do' ? 



107 



A FIELD SONG 

I up fo' day 

En on my way 
(" Plow dat furrer ter de en' ! ") 

All day long 

De same oV song — 
" Plow dat furrer ter de en' ! " 

O believers — 

You dat sow en reap, 
De sun shine hot 
In ever' spot 

But you ain't got time ter sleep ! 

De jaybird, say 

" Hit's a holiday — 
Plow dat furrer ter de en' ! " 

De fiel'-lark 'low, 

" Dey got you now ! — - 
Plow dat furrer ter de en' ! " 

O believers — 

You dat sow en reap, 
De sun shine hot 
In ever' spot. 

But you ain't got time ter sleep ! 
ic8 



A Field Song 



But I plows — I does — 

Whar de melon wuz, 
De bes' dat de good Lawd sen' ; 

En fum north ter souf 

I smacks my mouf 
Ez I plows dat furrer ter de en' ! 

O believers — 

You dat sow en reap 
You'll sho' feel prime 
In de melon time, 

But you won't have time ter sleep ! 



log 



A SONG OF TO-MORROW 

Li'r bit er trouble, 

Honey, fer terday ; 
Yander come Termorrer — 

Shine it all away ! 

Rainy Sky is sayin', 

" Dis'll never do ! 
Fetch dem rainbow ribbons, 

En ril dress in blue ! " 



1 10 



MARCH AND APRIL 

Mister March gone howlin' — 
Des lak he drunk wid dram : 

He fling his fros' at Aperl 
En hit de steeples — ba-am ! 

But Aperl, in his rosy yard, 

He say, " Go 'long, you ole blowhard ! '' 

De Vi'lets hunt fer kiver. 

De peach blooms lef ' de place, 
De half-dress' Lily shiver, 

De Rose red in de face ! 
But Aperl say : " My task is plain : 
I'll beat you back wid silver rain ! " 

En den he git a armful 

Er all his lilies white, 
En take his rain en roses 

En pelt 'im out er sight ! 
But March, he say dat he don't keer, — 
" I bet you I'll be back nex' year ! " 



111 



HIS SONG OF MONEY 

I tellen' you, my honey, 

Dat you better make de money 
Whilst de light is still a-shinin' in de skies ; 

Whilst de weather lookin' suliny 

Ain't de bees a-makin' honey ? 
Hit's de money. Oh, my honey, wins de prize ! 

I tellin' you, my honey, 

You kin buil' a worl' wid money, 

En brighten up its winter en its spring ; 
De bigges' gate is swingin' 
W'en de dollar come a-ringin' — 

Dey alius know de dollar by its ring ! 

But, atter all, my honey, 

W'en you gives yo' life fer money. 
En de shadders 'gin ter gether roun' you fas', 

W'en trouble come a-sighin', 

En de heart er you is cryin'. 
Hit's Love dat bring de comfort ter you las' ! 



112 



THE WAY LOVE LEADS 

I 

Thorns or flowers in life may be, 

But the way Love leads is the way for me. 

II 

Never a question, never a fear 
Under God's heaven, if Love be near. 

Ill 

Bitter the burdens of life, but still 

I bear them meekly at Love's sweet will. 

IV 

Knowing that Love of life is Lord, 
Not a rewarder, but a Reward ! 



113 



DEAR, TOILING HANDS 

I 

Made for a throne, to give a queen's commands, 

That glad hearts might obey, 
These beautiful and love-kissed, tender hands 

Yet toil along life's way. 

II 

Frail as a lily, bowed upon its stem, 
. With the spring rains impearled. 
Surely the kind God did not fashion them 
To battle with a world ! 

Ill 

Made for the sweetest kiss that love bestows — 
Not for a cruel strife ; 

In life's sweet gardens they should reap the rose- 
Not the red thorns of life ! 

IV 

Dear hands of Duty, in a life of loss 

Fighting against despair 
Where a cold world would nail them to a cross 

And leave them bleeding there. 
114 



Dear, Toiling Hands 

V 
They shiver in the wintry cold ; they know 

Never the kiss of Rest. 
Would that the world its pity would bestow 
. And warm them at Love's breast ! 

VI 
Dear hands ! that make each sacrifice complete 

Of Love that dares so much f 
Some child's brow, bending for a blessing sweet, 

Is aching for your touch ! 

VII 

Some home, in whose dim halls no lovelight shines. 

Would at your will grow bright ; 
Yearning for you to trim the blossoming vines 

Loveward, toward the light ! 

VIII 

Yet, toiling ever, in bleak, barren ways — 

Bound as with iron bands. 
Take from a singer this poor meed of praise, 

Dear, faithful, serving hands ! 

115 



Up from Georgia 



IX 

Holy with service ! On this flowerless sod 

Not vainly you have striven : 
Toiling for Love, dear hands ! you toil for God 

And so, take hold on heaven ! - 



ii6 



THE VICTORY OF PEACE 

Spring, with her banners gold and green, 
With her splendid suns and her stars serene, 

Smiles in the peace that comes after the fray ; 
And under the arch of the April skies 
The starry flag of the Union flies 

Comrades ! over your breasts to-day. 
Forward ! March I to the roll of the drum 
The loyal sons of the Southland come ' 

Not to the battle ! — the cannon's roar 

Is heard in the forests and fields no more ; 

The sweetest roses in all the South, 
Blossoming up from the stainless sod. 
With incense sweet as they smile to God, 
Have sealed with silence its iron mouth. 
Your guns are stacked and your swords are 

sheathed. 
And your brows with the laurels of Peace are 

wreathed. 

It is after the battle ; what sounds are here ? 
The songs of birds on the scented air ; 
117 



Up from Georgia 



The murmurous sigh of the inland gales ; 
The voice of the rivers that dashing free, 
Move in melody out to sea 

By murmurous meadows and violet vales ; 
Where once, in the strife and the passion and pain. 
Rose the shout of the victor, the cry of the slain. 

It is after the battle ; the fight is done ; 
The victory lost and the victory won ! 

And ye, who fared to the fight and shed 
Your blood on the battle fields, come to-day — • 
Thinned brigades from the far-away. 

To the silent hillocks that hide your dead ! 
Halt ! there are heroes that slumber here. 
And ye are such for the wounds ye bear ! 

Beat, ye drums, with no muffled sound ! 
Let the bugles echo the camps around ! 

And still three cheers for the boys in gray ! 
For whether they lived, or whether they died, . 
The South by their valor is glorified 

And rich in her record of love to-day ! 
Sons of the South ! there's a victory sweet 
That comes to the brave in the ranks of defeat ! 
ii8 



The Victory of Peace 

Here are they lying, the ones that shed 

Their blood for the South till her vales ran red, 

And her rivers blushed with the crimson tide ! 
Honor them ! Over their graves the years 
Have scattered their roses and showered their tears 

And Southern women have knelt and sighed. 
Honor them ! Honor was theirs, and fame 
Enshrines in glory each deathless name. 

The flag that they bore to the fight is furled, 
Hidden away from the new-made world. 

And trailed in the dust are its crimson bars ; 
The beautiful flag ! and they loved it so, 
But that is now in the long-ago. 

When the heavens were beaming with hope- 
ful stars ; 
Yet rare is the garland that o'er them waves — 
Whose crimson shadow falls on their graves. 

And Peace, like a beautiful angel, broods 
O'er the fertile fields and the solitudes 

Of a land made bright by the smile of God; 
And — dearest blessing of all — to-day. 
The foes who fought in the far-away, 

Are re-united on this dear sod, 
119 



Up from Georgia 



Which blossoms over the slain of war — 
Friends ! was it love we were fighting for ? 

Oh, love is ours. Though the fight was sore, 
It is ended now — we are friends once more ! 

Once more — thank God ! — we can proudly 
stand, 
And looking back on the bloody past, 
Say : " It is over at last — at last ! " 

With heart to heart and with hand to hand, 
Over — and here, in the sight of heaven. 
We do forgive, as we are forgiven. 

And thus forgiven, brave hearts and true. 
The boys in gray and the boys in blue — > 

Your higher mission at last is done. 
And though o'er the graves of our dead we weep. 
We can trust them all to the tender keep 

Of the God who guides us and makes us one ! 
One in the union which shall not cease 
Till the flags are furled in the Port of Peace. 



120 



JEAN 

Jean — my Jean — with the eyes of light 

An' the beautiful, soft brown hair, 
D'ye know that I'm longin' for you to-night — 
For your lips, — for the clasp of your hand so 
white. 

An' the thrill o' your voice so dear ? 

Jean — my Jean — of the glances bright, 

Where the smile shines through the tear^ 
D'ye know that I'm callin' to you to-night 
Where the seagulls cry like ghosts in flight. 
An' the dark falls lone an' drear ? 

Jean — my Jean — where the snow drifts white 

Through the answerless, icy air, — 
Ah, would to God you were here to-night, 
Braiding your beautiful tresses of light. 

An' that I were lying there ! 



121 



THE RIDE WITH MOLLY 

The bees were in the blossoms and the woods were 

white as snow, 
With miles and miles o' daisies in a springtime long 

ago; 
And the winds from dreaming meadows came with 

kisses sweet and kind 
When I drove the cows from pasture and Molly rode 

behind. 

I remember all about it — the pathway through the 

dells, 
Where the old mare timed her footsteps to the music 

of the bells 
That clanked the whole way homewards to the merry 

milking place. 
But mostly I remember Molly's curls about my face ! j 

For riding there behind me, every breeze a-blowing 

free 
Would catch 'em and would kiss 'em and toss 'em 

over me ! 

122 



The Ride with Molly 

And sometimes, too, I turned my head to see her 

bright eyes shine. 
And our faces came together and her lips were close 

to mine ! 

I didn't mind the labor in the fields or in the glades — 

The long and weary furrows where the young corn 
waved its blades. 

For I knew that ere the twilight came a sweet reward 
I'd find— 

I'd drive the cows from pasture and Molly'd ride be- 
hind ! 

And once the folks got anxious, and said : " The cows 
are late," 

And they looked and looked for Molly and the old 
mare at the gate ; 

And the reason was I'd " said the word," and kinder 
spoke my mind : 

The old mare ran away with me and Molly rode be- 
hind ! 



123 



THE WOMAN'S SONG 

They'll never have done with the fightin' on land an' 

over sea j 
Government — Government, what does it care — what 

does it care for me ? 
Bugles must blow an' flags must wave, an' the muffled 

drums must beat. 
An' what to a lass is a lover when they lay him dead 

at her feet ? 
They'll never have done with the fightin'. Forward 

the columns sweep ; 
I hear the shout o' the captains as I tend the hearth 

an' weep. 
Far off an' faint — but I hear it; an' a white, dead 

face I see 
Under the sod in the grave that God an' government 

make for me ! 
His hair was like the raven's wing. (I joy that my 

lips have prest. 
As it fell in its flowing beauty^ this dark lock on my 

breast ! ) 

124 



The Woman's Song 



An' his brave, bright eyes looked love to mine — the 

eyes I shall never see 
'Till God at the great white Judgment Day shall give 

him back to me. 
Bible they've got for battles : For men have fought 

an' died 
Ere the Prince of Peace said strife should cease — the 

Prince that they crucified ; 
Though a woman's tears bedew the years, shall they 

stay the crimson tide ? 
What can you do with government, with Bible on its 

side ? 
Men must fight the battles ; lover an' lass must part ; 
But what is a star of glory to a woman's broken heart ? 
Government's right, they tell me, an' the wrong must 

righted be : 
Give the lass then to her lover — an' my dead love 

back to me ! 



125 



HER TALKING EYES 

Mollie is graduatin', an' they say she's goin' to speak 
A Httle piece in Latin, an' another piece in Greek. 
I dunno nuthin' about 'em : I'm dull as a dunce 

could be, 
But Moll has a way of talkin' with her dear, sweet 

eyes, to me ! 

What do I keer for Latin ? It's Greek to me, I say ! 
But I understan' the language when her bright eyes 

look my way ! 
I know she's thar', on the platform ; I hear her sweet 

voice speak : 
But her eyes — they're talkin' English to the heart that 

don't know Greek ! 

I hear the folks applaudin' : I hear 'em, an' I say : 
" They dunno nuthin' about the eyes that are lookin' 

her lover's way ! " 
But I read 'em ; an' feel more thankful than ever my 

heart kin speak. 
That her dear eyes talk in English to the heart that 

don't know Greek ! 

126 



THE LITTLE ONE AWAY 

World ain't like it used to be — colder skies in May ; 
Summer ain't so sweet to me. The little one's away ! 
Wish the birds a-singing could reach the ones that 

roam ; 
Wish the sweet bells ringing could ring my darling 

home ! 

Sit here in the sunshine, solemn-like — , and see 

Morning glories peeping in where once she used to be; 

They loved her little window, with the blossoms and 
the lights ; 

Gave her glad good mornings, kissed her sweet good- 
nights. 

Sit here in the darkness, when no winds the maples 

stir. 
And hear the silence singing a sad, sweet song of her; 
I know the lilies dream of her, with her the roses 

roam. 
And sunflowers shine like stars of gold and lean to 

light her home. 

127 



Up from Georgia 



World ain't what it used to be — skies are cold and 

gray ; 
Summer ain't as sweet to me : The little one's away ! 
Wish the birds a-singing could reach the ones that 

roam ; 
Wish the glad bells ringing could ring my darling 

home ! 



128 



WHAT THE TOYS SAID 

The Hobby Horse said, 

As he shook his head : 
" It's a long, long ways to go 

O'er the white snow's foam 

To the little boy's home ; 
But I hear the tin horns blow. 
And must race away 'till I'm out o' breath 
To the Little Boy who will ride me to death ! ' 

And the Toy Drum said : 

" I've a hardened head. 
And away on my sticks I'll go 

From this icy dome 

To the Little Boy's home — 
I can beat my way through the snow ! 
Away ! away ! 'till I'm out o' breath. 
To the Little Boy who will beat me to death ! 

And the Toy Doll said. 

As her gold-crowned head 
Shone over the wintry snow : 

" To the Little Girls 

Of the golden curls 
In a fairy coach I'll go ; 
129 



Up from Georgia 



Far — far away, 'till Vm out of breath, 

To the Little Girls who will kiss me to death ! " 

But the Elephant said : 

" If that way Vm led. 
And they treat you all so bad, 

I tell you now 

That there'll be a row. 
And they'll wish they never had ! 
For Fll pack them all in my trunk, you see. 
And lock it, and throw away the key ! " 



I 



130 



MISS MARY 

I miss Miss Mary fum de place ; 

She take the blossom track; 
I 'fraid de river steal her face 

En den won't give it back ! 

Fer ever' time she pass 

I heah de river say : 
" Miss Mary, heah's yo' lookin'-glass — ■ 

I wish you look dis way ! " 

I miss Miss Mary fum de place ; 

De sun done gone ter bed ; 
De red rose 'low he lonesome now — 

De lily hang her head. 

En ever'whar she pass 

I heah dem wil' flowers say : 

" Heah's a dewdrap fer yo' lookin'-glass- 
Miss Mary, look dis way ! " 



131 



WEXL GET ON THE BRIGHTER 
SIDE 

Toil in the cities, and till the ground ; 

The world is green and wide, 
And some of these days, when the world turns round, 

We'll get on the brighter side ! 

Sow and reap, and work, and weep 

For the blessings that are denied ; 
And some of these days, in the morning's rays, 

We'll get on the brighter side. 

Some of these days, in the thorny ways 

Will the lilies of joy abide ; 
The birds will sing, and the bells will ring, 

And we'll get on the brighter side. 

Then toil in the cities, and till the ground. 

Whatever may be denied ; 
For some of these days, when the world turns round, 

We'll get on the brighter side ! 



132 



NAMING THE BABY 

We jest can't git a name fer him — but I'm a-keepin' 

still ! 
Ef they name him " William Jinkins," why, they're 

shore to call him " Bill ! " 
The mother thought of " Moses," but the goodness 

gracious knows 
Ef she ever slaps that name to him he'll trot along as 

" Mose ! " 

The preacher said " Ezekiel " wuz the name we orter 

seek ; 
But I floored him when I tol' him they would cut it 

down to " Zeke ! " 
An' then he sprung " Jehosophat " — but still he met 

with loss, 
Fer I tol' him, shore as preachin', they would halter 

him to " Hoss ! " 

We run all through the catalogue, but not a name we 

foun' 
But offered fine inducements fer the folks to cut it 

down ! 

133 



Up from Georgia 



But last, the mother up en said — it made the preacher 

nod : — 
" He's sich a heavenly blessin' we'll jest call him 

' Grace o' God ! ' " 



134 



I 



HOW THE OLD MAN WENT HOME 

(John Spraddley, a Former Slave, and Faithful Servant.) 
I 

Three score years and ten he went 

Singing along his way — -content, 

With never a thought or wish to roam : 

" Heah's my people, en heah's my home ! 

Heah's de house whar de ole man bo'n — 

De cotton blooms, en de fiel's er co'n ; 

But all but him en de house is gone ! 

Done crossed over de Jordan tide 

En reached de home on de yuther side.'* 

Never a thought or wish to roam : 

" Heah's my people, en heah's my home ! " 

II 

He died to-day in the old home place; 
And the light that fell on his dying face 
Was bright as the light of that city of white 
Where never is weeping, and never night. 
And the old, firm friends there, at his side. 
Marvelled much as the old man died 
To see the dark brows glorified ! 

135 



Up from Georgia 



An' he said as the light in his sight grew dim : 
" I trusts de Lawd, en I friends wid Him ! " 
Never a thought or wish to roam : 
But he found his people, and reached his home ! 



136 



DAT'S MY LFL' BOY 

Don' keer how he rompin' roun'- 

Fill de house wid joy ; 
Le' 'm play en have his way : 

Dat's my liT boy ! 

Go ter school twell holiday, 

Wid his book en toy ; 
" Beats de Ian'," de teacher say, 

Dat's my H'l' boy ! 

Mammy gittin' ol' ; I spec' 
Soon she'll miss de joy 

Er his a'ms eroun' her neck : 
Good-by, li'l' boy ! 



137 



THE ABSENCE OF PHILIP 

Sweet Laura now the cypress twines 
And far her heart must roam ; 

For Philip's in the Philippines, 
And Philip pines for home ! 

A lovely maiden, all forlorn, 
No joy her sorrow checks ; 

All night she weeps, till dewey morn 
Shines on the Dewey decks. 

And Philip sighs from dark to dawn, 
By sad misfortune schooled, 

And writes eight saffron pages on 
Manila wrapping (ruled). 

And Laura weeps to read the lines. 
And looks across the foam ; 

For Philip's in the Philippines, 
And Philip pines for home ! 



X38 



THE RIPPLING OF OLD GLORY 

They'd better all be keerful, 
An' look out whar they tread ! 

I never seen Old Glory 
A-ripplin' out so red ! 

She's like a million rainbows 

Way up thar on the shed, 
With the stars of states a-twinklin', 

An' the old stripes ripplin' red ! 

Be keerful — mighty keerful ! 

Thar's trouble overhead ; 
I never seen Old Glory 

A-ripplin' out so red I 



1.39 



JUST WHISTLE 

When times are bad an folks are sad 

An' gloomy day by day 
Jest try your best at lookin' glad 

An' whistle 'em away. 

Don't mind how troubles bristle j 
Jest take a rose or thistle. 

Hold your own 
An' change your tone 
An' whistle, whistle, whistle ! 

A song is worth a world o' sighs. 

When red the lightnings play. 
Look for the rainbow in the skies 

An' whistle 'em away. 

Don't mind how troubles bristle, 
The rose comes with the thistle. 

Hold your own 
An' change your tone 
An' whistle, whistle, whistle ! 
140 



I 



Just Whistle 



Each day comes with a hfe that's new, 
A strange, continued story, 

But still beneath a bend o' blue 
The world rolls on to glory. 

Don't mind how troubles bristle; 
Jest take a rose or thistle. 

Hold your own 
An' change your tone 
An' whistle, whistle, whistle ! 



141 



WHAT THE CAR WHEELS SANG 

I 

With a scream of the whistle our farewell said, 
And into the blackness of night we sped 

On and on 

To meet the dawn, 
Under the sky where the stars burned red ; 
Past hills that stood where the snows were shed, 
Ghostly-white as the shrouded deadj 

On and on 

To meet the dawn : 
True hand at the throttle and hope ahead ! 

The steel rails ringing — 

The swift wheels singing : 
" To kith and kin, O hearts that roam — 
In vine-wreathed cot, and marble dome. 
Over the world we bear you home ! 

11 

Whirled through the dark where the black steed 

drives 
Are joys and sorrows of human lives ; 
Laughing and weeping. 
And children sleeping 

142 



I 



What the Car Wheels Sang 

On the breasts of glad mothers ; and wistful wives ; 
The clank of chains and the grip of gyves ! 

On and on 

To meet the dawn 
Where Light the soul of the Darkness shrives ! 

The steel rails ringing — 

The mad wheels singing : 
" To gloom or gladness, O hearts that roam — 
To darkened dwelling or marble dome 
Over the world we bear you home ! '' 

III 

There are hearts that listen with hope and fear 
For the signal shrill of the engineer : 

That throb and thrill, 

At that signal shrill : 
Does it bring them the rose or the rue to wear ? 
The song, the sigh, or the burning tear ? 

On and on 

To meet the dawn — 
The black night dies, and the hills stand clear ! 

"What are you bringing, 

O swift wheels singing — 
To daisied meadow and dew-sweet loam ? " 

143 



Up from Georgta 



" The hearts that hunger — the hearts that roam- 
Over the world we bear them home ! " 

IV 

Old friends, old loves, in a rapture wild= — 
Kiss of the mother and clasp of the child : 

The night is gone — 

We have met the dawn j 
Never so gladly the sweet sun smiled [ 
Never the spirit of Night beguiled 

The hand so true. 

That the throttle knew — 
Bearing the burden of mother and child 

On and on 

To the joy o' the dawn ! 
With ever that song to the hearts that roam — 
" To vine-wreathed cot and marble dome 
Over the world we bear you home ! " 



144 



MORNING AND NIGHT 

We cannot know the way — 

Or if it lead to darkness, or to light ; 
It is but this: To see the rainbow-ray — 
To dream the dream — to do the deed to-day, 

And then, good-night ! 



145 



A SONG OF LIFE 

No sighs for love, my hearty ! There's more in life 

to-day 
Than weeping for a woman; Swift rolls the world 

away ! 
The times are ever changing — brave deeds there are 

to do; 
Why weep, then, for a woman who will not weep 

for you ? 

No sighs for love, my hearty — no rainy April eyes ! 
With all the light around you, think of a world of 

sighs ! 
The green is on the meadow, the hills climb near the 

blue ; 
Why weep, then, for a woman who will not weep 

for you ? 

No tears — no sighs, my hearty ! To moan, when 

dark clouds pass 
And let the living light out, " Alas ! Alas ! Alas ! " 
Brave rivers seaward singing — the rose o'ertops the 

rue ; 
Why weep, then, for a woman who will not weep 

for you ? 

146 



A Song of Life 



Fare to the fight ! The battle is for the brave and 

strong ; 
Fast flies the time, my hearty ; Life is a battle song ! 
Stern foes are swift advancing ; brave deeds there are 

to do ; 
Why weep, then, for a woman who will not weep 

for you ? 



147 



THE CALL OF FREEDOM 

When freedom calls in thunder tones, 

Far sea to sea replies, 
And God the cause of freedom owns 

And thunders from the skies. 

The highest law is freedom's word. 
And where her sons have bled 

Each wind-swayed reed becomes a sword 
To strike oppression dead. 

Holy her cause, and he who fights. 

Contending for a clod 
Where freedom mourns her ruined rights, 

A hero is to God. 



148 



A PRAYER OF GIFTS 

I 

Give us no other art 

Than knowing to be kind j 
Give us the thankful heart, 

Light where we walk so blind. 

II 

Give us to think no ill — 
Forgive as we're forgiven. 

With earth and thy dear will 
Sweet as a dream of heaven. 



149 



TO THE FIELDS 

Be thankful to the fields, 

Though summer's sweets lie dead ; 
It was their fleece that clothed you, 

Their green blades brought you bread. 



150 



ALONE WITH THE DREAM 

Yellowed leaves and a dusty cover — 

Dim and gray with the dust of years. 
It was the gift of a long-lost lover — 

A gift of love and a gift of tears. 

A withered rose and a leaf of clover 

From the beautiful gardens far away. 
Is the dream of love so quickly over ? 

What does the heart of the woman say ? 

She hears the bells of the May-time ringing : 
She sees the May with its blooms depart. 

These were songs of her lover's singing, 
But the dust is over the lover's heart. 

Her first sweet love ! . . . He is calling — calling 

Back to the beautiful, vanished past ; 
Tears on the time-worn pages falling. 

The woman weeps o'er the dream at last I 

And was there never on earth another — 
— A dearer love than the olden one ? 
Kissing her lips, a child cries, " Mother ! " 
The book is closed, and the dream is done ! 

151 



A BALLAD 

I am glad that my lady can weep when she will, 
And thus bring the swords of the gallants to play. 

Who hath broken her heart ? It is adamant still j — 
She will trifle their own hearts away ! 

Her glance can entrance, as their keen swords can 
kill: 

I am glad that my lady can weep when she will ! 

I am glad that my lady can weep : She hath made 
Dim eyes where the sunshine dwelt tender and 
bright. 

I marvel, sometimes, that she is not afraid 
Of the ghosts of the night ! 

Their pitiful faces my own heart would thrill : 

I am glad that my lady can weep when she will ! 

She can weep — she can sigh — but the day comes apace 
When the ghosts will not down ! When in si- 
lence apart 
She will feel the real tears on her pallid, drawn face. 

And the pang at the heart ! 
Then the pale ghosts will triumph — and keen swords 

will kill :— 
I am glad that my lady can weep when she will ! 
152 



A SONG OF HOPE 

Night, and no star 

To guide the weary and the wandering feet : 
And yet I know somewhere the lights shine far, 

And breaks the Morning sweet. 

Night, and black skies 

Above the brave ships, tossing on the foam ; 
And yet I know somewhere the Harbor lies 

Radiant with Love and Home ! 

Night — but for me 

Still light ! light ! light ! where darkest storms shall 
cease ; 
O lonely land ! O black, tempestuous sea — 

I pass from you to Peace ! 



153 



ON THE MARCH 

Don't know where she's goin' to^ — this country o' 

the free ; 
She's got the land, an' now her hand is reachin' for 

the sea ! 
Her ships on all the waters — the rollin' of her drums 
Is heard where nations murmur : " She comes ! She 

comes ! She comes ! " 

Don't know where she's goin' to, but still she's goin' 

fast ; 
She's ready for the battle — she's bravin' every blast. 
Her soldiers march in millions — the blue linked with 

the gray. 
And the Stars and Stripes are wavin' across the world 

to-day ! 

Don't know where she's goin' to, but stormy day or 

night — 
In peace, in strife — for death, for life our country's 

goin' right ! 
Her flag's on every ocean — the music of her drums 
Is heard where nations murmur : " She comes ! She 

comes ! She comes ! " 
154 



THE OFT-TOLD TALE 

Thousands of years the tale is told, 

And even as a day, 
With all their needs, and dreams, and deeds 

The centuries roll away. 

But the world is ever young. 

And life the future craves; 
And the roses hide where the dead abide, 

And the world forgets its graves. 



155 



TO A SINGER 

(On Reading a Volume from Over the Sea.) 

Still by the hill and glen, 

And where the cities throng, 

They break the singer's heart ; and then 
They glory in the song. 

Come hither : lo, the woods 
Of the sun's beams are fain ; 

Sounds in the dreary solitudes 
The requiem of the rain. 

Thy lips are ruby-red — 

Thy hands are soft and white, 

And the wide world is comforted 
Of thy dear eyes of light. 

Thou see'st, dear heart, afar 
The soul — the song intense. 

And roamest where Faith's angels are 
In heaven's magnificence. 

156 



To A Singer 



Lifting thine eyes above — 
Sweeping the loftier scene ; 

Thou see'st the pallid ghost of Love 
Over earth's graves of green. 

Over earth's graves of green, 
Walled in of sand and sod ; 

And makest still a song serene 
That thrills the throne of God. 

That thrills the faith-formed throne 
'Neath which the star-wraiths drift ; 

For in the ages, dark, — unknown — 
God's was the singer's gift ! 

Yet, with His lightnings hurled 
The darkened heavens along. 

What to the rude and rushing world 
The melody of song ? 

Sing till the rivers sing ! 

Sing till the firm hills shake ! 
Sing 'till the seas are answering — 

Sing till the heart shall break ! 
157 



Up from Georgia 



Thou shalt find little part 

In earth's scant love and trust; 

But for thy sweetest song, Sweetheart, 
Measures of tears and dust ! 

Yet sing ! for song is still 

Of graces the one grace ; 
The singers who God's word fulfill 

Shall see Him face to face. 

Sing thou of love that lives 

Where strifes and hatreds throng; 
That, being wounded, still forgives — 

That suffers and is strong. 

No pence shall fill thy purse ; 

(Thy soul hath starved too long !) 
For well we know gold is the curse — 

The broad world's curse of song ! 

Sing not for worldly gain — 

Sing not for dark or fair : 
Sing thou in pleasure, peace and pain, 

Because the song is there ! 

158 



To A S INGER 



Sing brave, and be content, 
When the world-thunders roll. 

That in the night a great Voice sent 
A message to thy soul ! 

For still by hill and glen. 
And where the cities throng 

They break the singer's heart and then 
They glory in the song. 



159 



THE PASSING OF A HERO 

Nat Jones had been a-readin' 'bout the novelists of 

late 
That made enough to corner half the country's real 

estate 5 
'Bout the hundred thousand copies that the sufFerin' 

public took, 
An' says he : " I've 'bout decided I wuz born to write 

a book ! 

" It '11 help to paint the homestead, send the children 

all to school. 
Buy Sally a planner, take the mortgage off the mule. 
Too long I've hid my talents, jest encumberin' the 

groun' 
They'll be runnin' me fer congress ef I keep a-loafin' 

'roun' ! " 

So, without no more considerin', says he : " I'll jest 
begin." 

Bought a quart of ink, an' pens enough to fence the 
cattle in ; 

An' he turned out blotted pages worse than " moon- 
shine " from the stills. 

An' 'twuz jest a benediction to the busy paper mills. 
160 



The Passing of a Hero 

But his family got anxious, an' 'twuz noticed 'roun' 

the town 
Whatever he wuz writin' up, he kept a-thinnin' 

down : 
With the sorrow of the ages showin' solemn in his 

face 
He went around as mournful as a sinner lost to 

grace. 

" I tell you, I'm in trouble " — the same wuz plain to 

see — 
" That everlastin' hero is a-gittin' 'way with me ! 
In the middle o' the story, when I had him safe an' 

soun'. 
He took a dost o' pizen, an' I jest can't bring him 

'roun' !" 

An' the sympathizin' citizens would tell him, with a 

sigh, 
" Perhaps the thing wuz Providence : It wuz his time 

to die." 
An' at that he'd leave 'em, scowlin', an' sit him down 

again 
An' resurrect that hero with one splutter o' the pen ! 
i6i 



Up from Georgia 



An' next day, when they'd meet him, with " How's 
yer hero's health ? " 

He'd smile, an' tell 'em : " Old man died an' left him 
lots o' wealth ; 

But the thing that sorter puzzles me, an' circum- 
scribes his glory. 

Is, where the old man come from — fer there warn't 
none in the story ! 

" I've got to make a place for him, but how it's to be 

done 
Is more'n I kin tell you, 'less I start where I begun ! 
An' hang this novel writin' ! it's a-turnin' of me 

gray, 
An' that miserable hero'll be the death o' me some 
day ! " 

His case wuz gittin' desperate : He jest thinned down „ 
until H 

Doctors an' undertakers said he'd shortly fill the bill. 

Some said his mind wuz failin', but the wise an' the 
elect 

Said it couldn't be affected, since he had none to 
affect. 

162 






The Passing of a Hero 

At last he seen a specialist, who told him plump an' 

plain 
He wuz born fer exercisin' of his muscles — not his 

brain ; 
An' he listened to that sayin% an' quit a-writin' tales : 
Jest throwed his hero overboard an' went to splittin' 

rails. 



163 



THE VOICE OF THE SOUTH 

(On the Statue of Henry W. Grady, Atlanta, Ga.) 

Over the wreck of his Atlanta he 

Heard music in the rills ; 
" New lighted, like the herald Mercury " 

On " heaven-kissing hills." 

And to the North, the East, the West he said : 

" Lo ! from the thunder-strife, 
And from the blown, white ashes of the dead 

We rise to larger life ! " 

And senates listened, and the states, made one, 

Cried, with their captains grand : 
" Over our glad breasts shines the same great sun, 

And God lights all the land ! " • 

And now ! . . . From this old tenement — sublime. 

Since here his steps were known — 
I see him ! . . . And he triumphs over time S 

And looks back to his own ! 
164 



i 



The Voice of the South 



Friend of humanity ! Where thou must be 

Do the dashed rains feel chill ? 
Look from thy cold, bronzed pedestal and see 

Thine own Atlanta still ! 

Look where she comes, and hear her brave heart 
beat — 

No more despised, disowned. 
But — even while kneeling at thy sculptured feet, 

A very queen enthroned ! 

Look where her marts are busy ! where the world 

Comes in its peace and pride. 
And as the lightnings round thy brow are hurled, 

Think ! 'Twas for this you died ! 

Beam, lovely world ! With April and with May 

His deathless brow defend ! 
What greater man than him — content to lay 

His life down for his friend ? 



165 



\ 



A GEORGIA COURTSHIP 

Bill Jones had been a-courtin' of Sairy-Ann — let's see : 

Fer 'bout a year, I reckon, 'fore she fell in love with 
me ; 

And Bill, he had a daddy what had money, well as 
Ian', 

And that's why Bill was hopin' that he'd marry Sairy- 
Ann. 

In fact, the thing wuz settled ; Sairy's daddy he wuz 

— well, 
When his cotton paid the mortgage didn't have a bale 

to sell ; 
An' he kept a-gittin' poorer, an' goin' down the hill. 
An' that's why he wuz hopin' fer a son-in-law in 

Bill. 

One day he said to Sairy : " If Jones's Bill should say 
That he's tired of livin' single, you jest let him name 

the day ; 
He's a mighty likely feller, an' if marryin' is his plan 
You'd better close the bargain while it's ofFerin', Sairy- 
Ann." 

i66 



A Georgia Courtship 

An' Sairy thought it over, an' was lovin' of him 

strong, 
For she didn't know no better till / took an' come 

along ; 
An' then, 'twuz " Goodby, Billy ! " It wuz plain he 

warn't the man 
What had been predestinated fer to marry Sairy- Ann. 

But he 'lowed Pd never do it — marry Sairy — an' he 

went 
A-talkin' it jest thataway all round the settlement ; 
An' as fer Sairy's daddy — he wuz mad enough to 

kill, 
An' he loaded up his shotgun an' said : " Sairy is fer 

Bill ! " 

Warn't any chance of meetin' with Sairy : Day by 

day 
I kept a thinkin', thinkin' how we'd take an' run 

away. 
But the old man knowed a trick or two what beat the 

tricks I knowed, 
An' when it comes to shotguns — well, / don't dispute 

the road ! 

167 



Up from Georgia 



But rd set my mind to git her, an' her mind wuz set 

fer me, 
So I kept right on a-schemin', jest as hopeful as could 

be; 
Fer I knowed in spite of shotguns mi' bull-dogs at the 

gates, 
That, like the tax-collector, things'll come to them 

what waits. 

An' they come ! 'Twuz Sairy's birthday, an' the old 

man — he wuz proud ! 
He give a phantom party — ^had the biggest kind of 

crowd ! 
There was dancin' by the fiddle, an' a lot of gals to ask, 
An' at these here phantom parties everybody wears a 

mask, 

I went — dressed as a woman — frills an' flounces 

flyin' high ! 
An' the way the old man met me ! . . . I jest 

thought that I would die ! 
" Walk this way, ma'am ! Hang yer hat up ; have 

this rocker fer a seat ! " 
(An' I hadn't more'n crossed my legs 'fore some one 

said : " What feet /") 
i68 



A Georgia Courtship 

I wuz feelin' kinder curious : mule an' buggy there, 

outside, 
An' no chance to whisper Sairy if she'd Hke to take a 

ride ? 
But I finally got to her, pinched her arm an' made 

her know. 
An' when she got done laughin' she jest told me : 

" Yes, she'd go ! " 

But the old man — it wuz funny ! follerin' me all 

roun' the hall ! 
He took 3. fancy to me ! Said : " He liked a woman 

tall.r' 

(I wuz most afeared he'd ax me fer to marry him, an' so 
I kept him at a distance, kaze I'd had to tell him 

" No ! " 

He talked this way : " It's lonesome fer a widower 

like me. 
An' when Sairy-Ann gits married to Billy, where'll I 

be? 
No one to love an' talk to when the evenin' shadders 

flit— 
I reckon you ain't married ? " (An' I told him : 

"No; not;'/V/") 

169 



Up from Georgia 



He was jest about proposin' when Sairy pulled my 

sleeve, 
An' I knowed that wuz the signal that 'twuz gittin 

time to leave ! 
So I edged ofF from him quiet to the back door — 

open wide — 
Got Sairy in the buggy an' — wuz ready fer the ride ! 

Away we went a - dashin' through the darkness ! 

Never knowed 
When I come to think it over, how that old mule 

kept the road ! 
Over stumps, an' over ditches, with a jostle an' a 

jolt! . . . 
But Sairy's arms wuz round me, an' I hollered : 

" Keep yer holt ! " 

There warn't nobody follerin' : They hadn't missed 

us, an' 
If they had, it didn't matter, fer they thought / warn't 

a man ! 
But it warn't no time fer triflin', so we kept a-flyin' still 
'Till we struck the ordinary's — jest this side o' Wells's 

Mill. 

170 



A Georgia Courtship 

Then we both got out the buggy : Sairy frightened, 

more or less, 
An' me fishin' fer the hcense an' — a-gittin' out that 

dress ! 
An' when I'd got the musHn' an' the hoops from 

round my boots, 
I stood 'longside of Sairy in the best of weddin' suits ! 

We wuz married in a minute, an' in drivin' back to town 
We hearn a heap of hollerin' — seen Ughts a-flashin' 

roun' : 
'Twas the old man's phantom party — stumblin' over 

roots 
An' bridges, huntin' Sairy an' that woman with the — 

boots ! 

We drove right in the middle of the crowd — I seen 

it all !— 
The old man — he looked daggers, an' — Bill Jones 

looked awful small ! 
But I seen the old man weaken when I told him : 
I " Don't feel blue : 

I wuz promised to your daughter, an' I couldrit marry 



you ! 



171 



THE SWEETEST OF MEMORY'S 
BELLS 

Wild is the way through the woodland, but there are 

the sweet fields of clover — 
The sighing, sad pines and the jessamine vines and 

the rill that leaps laughingly over 
The lilies that rim it — the shadows that dim it ; and 

there, winding winsomely sweet. 
Is the path that still leads to the old home through 

rivery ripples of wheat ! 

And hark ! 'tis the song of the reapers, and I know 

by its jubilant ringing 
There is gold in the gleam of the harvest and love in 

the hearts that are singing ; 
And still as of old to the ether its music mellifluous 

swells. 
And the wind that sighs westward is swaying the 

sweetest of Memory's bells ! 

Let me pass through the wheat and the clover — O 

men and rose-maidens who reap ! 
I, who come from the sound of the cities, like a child 

to its mother would creep ; 
172 



The Sweetest of Memory's Bells 

For through long years of tears and of toiling, like 

harbor-bells over the foam 
Your voices far winging and ringing were singing me 

— singing me home ! 

And now, from the pain and the pleasure — from the 

sorrow and sighing I flee 
Like the birds when the storm-winds are blowing — 

like the ships seek the haven from sea ! 
And I fancy the violets know'me in gardens of beauty 

and bliss ; 
And do not the red roses owe me the peace of the 

prodigal's kiss ? 

The sun is still bright at the portal ; there the love- 
light all radiant shines ; 

Heart ! heart ! there's a face we remember in the 
tangle and bloom of the vines ! 

Far off the glad reapers are singing — far off in the 
rivery wheat. 

And the arms of a mother are clinging, and the kiss, 
of a mother is sweet ! 



173 



RAIN 



IN THE CITY 



A shadow creeps to the sun, that seems 

Like a soul with a guilty stain ; 
A silver drop on the pavement gleams : 

Thank God for the rain, the rain ! 

The burning dust of the blazing street 
Is dimpled. From o'er the plain 

The cool wind comes with a kiss that's sweet 
And riots along the rain ! 

The gamins whistle ; the teamsters bare 
Their brows for a moment's space ; 

From sweltering casements the children stare 
At the drops in the rainy race ! 

And the heart of the city beats for joy, 

And the sick forget their pain : 
And one looks down on a barefoot boy 

And longs for his youth again ! 
174 



Rain 

IN THE COUNTRY 

The broad fields burn in the noonday sun 

And the lily looks forlorn ; 
And the freshness fades from the dusty blades 

Of the waveless, windless corn. 

The cattle, with never a clank of bells, 
Lie still by the shadowed streams ; 

The birds are mute in the drowsy dells, 
When sudden the lightning gleams 

Far off on the horizon's misty marge. 
And up from the south there comes 

Cloud on cloud, in a battle charge. 
And the thunder rolls its drums ! 

And the corn grows glad and its silks are tossed, 

And the hly drinks the drops 
That the warring clouds in their anger lost — 

Life ! life ! to the thirsting crops ! 

And one looks out from a cabin door 

And then to a woman speaks : 
" We'll have a harvest thet's fine, Pm shore, 

Ef it jest don't rain six weeks ! " 



WILLIAM Mckinley 



Weeping skies that would seem to deplore him 

Cast shadows on stars and on suns ; 
Drooped flags that are shivering o'er him 

To a far-rolling thunder of guns ! 
And great bells that rock the starred steeples 

And moan to the heavens above, 
But dearer than all things — a people's 

Devotion and love ! 

II 

O Northland and Southland far-sighing 

Your grief, in this hour unblest. 
He died for his country, and dying 

Was folded in Love to her breast. 
In the storm of the battle he towered 

A beacon — a strength to the brave. 
And Freedom, low-kneeling, has showered 

Her tears on his grave. 
176 



William McKinley 



III 

Fall, flags, o'er the sod where he's lying; 

Moan, winds of the world, as ye sweep 
Over States unto sad States replying. 

O'er oceans where deep calls to deep ! 
Clasp hands Time shall never dissever, 

Though Fate strike with wrath and with rod, 
Where he rests in a world's Love forever — 

In the great Peace of God ! 



177 



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